Bow and Blade
by Aurelianella
Summary: Robert of Huntington has an old score to settle with the Sheriff of Nottingham. When the Sheriff goes after the innocent to lure Robert out of hiding, Robert assumes a new identity to take down the Sheriff and his lackey Guy of Gisborn. He receives an unlikely ally in the form of a fiery maiden named Marian.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **This story is a blend of various legends and historical figures. I own none of them. I appreciate any and all critiques and comments.

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Robert woke abruptly. The inky blue-black darkness instantly smothered his eyesight as his eyes flew open. Safe under the cover of night and his small shelter of bushes high on the ridge, he sat up. His stiff back protested from long hours traveling. A faint rumble from the road below drew his attention and a cascade of ice flooded his chest. How had they caught up to him so fast? He peered over the rocky ledge and saw twelve armored guards galloping along the road, headed straight for the village of Locksley. His dry, cracked lips spat out a curse as he surged to his feet and slipped and skidded his way down to the road. Beneath his feet the ground vibrated with the echoes of the horses, and with a wave of foreboding, he bolted for the shortcut through the forest.

His brain suffered under a battering ram of accusations even as twigs and branches slapped and clawed at his face. Strategic thought was impossible; his numb brain could only process guilt. He should have been more careful. He should have risked detection by day and maintained his meager lead on the soldiers. He should have never involved his uncle in this at all. He should have never come back.

In the distance a lone wolf howled and the hairs on the back of Robert's neck rose in response. Cold sweat beaded on his back while his mind raced with possibilities; if he cut across Branyard's field he might be able to reach the village first and warn them of what was coming. Around him the forest thinned as the field came into view. A black cloud rolled toward him.

He plunged headfirst into the cloud, knowing that his village lay just over the next rise. The smoke engulfed him, suffocated and left him blind, but doggedly he fought his way to the top of the hill. The scene that lay before him through the black veil gave life to his darkest dreams. Lit by the orange glow of torches, soldiers rode along the streets of Locksley setting fire to the thatched roofs of shops and homes. Weeks without rain turned the wooden structures into kindling. Terrified screams filled the night air as villagers fled burning cottages. Scrambling to douse the flames, screaming, cursing and attacking the riders with whatever they could find, the villagers swam before him in waves of heat. Robert flung up a hand to shield his eyes from the glare as his whole world disintegrated into a pile of ash. Guilt vanished as duty set in.

Fueled by a territorial fury, he charged down the hill. His frenzied approach caught the eye of a tall soldier who, with a grim set of his mouth and narrowed eyes, turned and sent his charger racing toward Robert. As they crashed together, Robert leapt at him and wrestled him from the saddle. Shouts rang out behind them as several villagers witnessed the display. They hurried to Robert's side, kicking and cursing at the fallen soldier, who curled into a bloody heap.

"Leave him, he's not the one responsible for this," said Robert, flinging out his arms to hold them back.

"He might as well be!" growled a wrinkled old farmer with a bristly silver beard and a small block of wood clutched tight in his fist. "Let us at him." Robert swung around to stare at him.

"Your homes are burning and you would stand here and do nothing? Leave this man and salvage what is left of the village." Ignoring this, the old man struggled to break past Robert's outstretched arms to the soldier on the ground. Robert seized him by the collar, half-lifting him off the ground.

"You forget yourself, old man!" he shouted. "I am Robert of Huntington and I have given an order."

"They are here because of you!" the old man bellowed back. "You are a murderer and you have brought this death upon us all."

Robert froze, but he retained his grip on the man's front. His dark eyes scanned the desperate faces around him and saw the old man's anger reflected in every gaze looking back. Several villagers looked ready to turn their weapons upon him next. He tightened his grip on the old man's shirtfront and yanked him closer so that they were practically nose to nose.

"Would you be a murderer also?" he snarled. "See to your home, while you still have one." He released him and stepped back. They did not want his help; they did not want him here at all.

He needed to get to Uncle Gamwell's house, his numb brain reminded him. Averting his face from the furious eyes, he stumbled down a side street and doubled over, racked by a fit of nausea. The smoke burned in his lungs and he coughed, pulling his shirt collar up over his nose and mouth to filter what little clean air he could get. A horn sounded and all of the riders turned their horses away from the village to attack the lord's manor. Robert refused to fall behind this time, not when his family's lives were at stake. He reached for his longbow strapped across his back, strung it in the span of a heartbeat and ran to intercept a pair of riders lagging behind the rest. Two shots later Robert sat astride one of their sleek gray horses; the guards lay in dusty heaps on the road behind him.

Digging his heels into the horse's sides, he galloped through his uncle's smoldering cornfields.

Locksley Manor loomed on the horizon. What few knights his uncle housed had rushed outside to fend off the attackers. Robert gave a vicious yank on his reins which nearly toppled the poor horse, who screamed with displeasure. He dismounted hastily, unconcerned when the horse cantered away. Scanning the shadowy figures from a distance, his dark eyes landed on the one man he hated with every fiber of his being: Giles of Northwood.

Giles wore his authority like a mantle, barking out orders with unabashed relish. Robed all in black with a thick fur cloak fastened at his shoulder by a large silver broach and seated astride a monstrous black beast, he might have been the devil himself. Fire from the torches illuminated his glittering black eyes, and a flash of the crimson lining of his cloak only heightened the similarity.

"Take her away!"

Even from this distance Robert heard the command. His eyes flew to the open front doors where two shadowy figures dragged a third down the front steps toward a carriage. His aunt Cecily shrieked and struggled between them, calling out for her husband and two sons. They stumbled over something lying in their path and for one agonizing moment Robert felt his stomach give a violent heave as he recognized his uncle splayed across the stone steps in a scarlet bath. Aunt Cecily howled to the moon, her anguished cry piercing a hole the size of the universe through Robert's soul. The pain of it rooted him to the spot.

"Silence, Madam!" barked Giles. "This man and your sons have been conspiring with a traitor and murderer. No one should mourn such a death unless they are a traitor themselves. As for you, I will spare your life, but you will never again live in the glory and luxury of a lady. I said cease your incessant noise! Find the boys you louts!" he ordered two men waiting by his side. "Let the line of Locksley end tonight!" He wheeled his horse around to gallop away, heading straight for Robert. Lacking time to properly fit and aim an arrow, Robert dived out of sight behind a tangle of thick brambles. Giles rode past in a billow of black robes, whipping his horse brutally to spur it on. Cursing under his breath, Robert turned back to his aunt. She was collapsed on the steps beside her husband, the two guards standing awkwardly behind her. Desperate to do something, Robin flung himself out of his hiding place and ran to help her.

Suddenly, an arrow lodged itself in the thick leather protecting the shoulder of the man on her left. He let loose a strangled yell and sank to one knee. Skidding to a stop again, Robert saw two dark figures ducking behind the far corner of the house.

"Mother, run!" yelled Joseph, the older of the Locksley boys. He raised a bow and fired wildly at the guards.

"After them," grunted the injured man by Lady Cecily's side. "We have our orders."

"NO!" wailed Aunt Cecily, clutching at his robes. "Don't hurt them!" Robert averted his eyes as his aunt was dragged to her feet and gagged. There was nothing he could do for her, save rescue the only two things she had left to live for.

He sped after his cousins, slipping around behind the manor to avoid the soldiers. He spotted Joseph ushering his younger brother William into Locksley Forest as he turned to aim another arrow at the approaching soldiers. Not pausing to think, Robert's hand flew to his own bow, and he launched an arrow at the approaching guard. A rider went down followed by another wounded by Joseph's shot.

"Joseph! Follow me!" Robert shouted, speeding toward his cousin and yanking him into the forest by his sleeve. "Where's Will?"

"I told him to go on without me," Joseph panted, fighting to keep pace with him. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in hiding." Robert flinched but could think of no answer. He merely picked up speed.

Hooves sounded behind them and an arrow whizzed by Joseph's ear. He ducked with a yelp and whirled around, raising his bow. Five horsemen could be seen through the trees; three bore crossbows and the other two carried torches they were using to set fire to the trees.

"We'll never outrun them," Joseph said in a low voice, sweat trickling down the side of his dark, handsome face. His chest heaved and he fitted an arrow to his bow, preparing to go down fighting.

"Don't stop!" shouted Robert, going back to pull him out of range.

"Robert, look out!" Joseph dived at him, knocking him flat on his back as three more arrows flew in their direction…

A thick silence hung over the scorched earth as moonlight filtered through the remains of what once had been a lush forest; it lay in puddles at the bases of trees, as though the trees cried silver tears. An owl piped its mournful cry through the night, moaning with the voice of the wood. Weak from running and half choked by soot, Robert dragged himself through the wreckage to kneel in the brightest silver pool. Anger coursed through him, thick as the smoke that billowed above and his fist shook as he reached for the stiff, black arrow protruding from the dead body of his cousin. His flesh recoiled from the dark object as though burned, and a stab of grief pierced him as he thought how narrowly he had escaped the same fate. The guards were gone, having given up the search for their bodies.

"Joseph." His voice shook as a film of mist clouded his vision. "I have brought ruin on us all." He buried his face in his hands.

"This was my fault, and as I am Robert of Huntington I will mend this. I will see your mother made Lady of Locksley again. The Sheriff and his men will never get their hands on Will even if I have to offer up my own life to protect him." With a steadying breath he sat back on his heels and closed his eyes in a final farewell. He lifted his head, letting out his breath in a long, deep breath.

Despite the raw ache inside of him, the world went on. He looked around. The trees would grow back so that this night would be just a whisper carried on the wind, like other such tragedies were remembered in the breeze that blew past him now.

A shiver raced across his skin, reminding him that he did not have the privilege of time. The Sheriff and his men were still searching for him. A part of him wanted them to find him; he wanted to make them pay for all that they had done. But he was only one man facing a squadron of twelve armed and armored soldiers. Any altercations between them would only finish what Giles had set out that night to accomplish. He froze, listening for the sound of approaching horses.

The night tensed, taking a new form. What moments before had been a breeze of sorrow was now a breath of warning. Though weary in body and mind, the strength of the oaks was in his soul. The leaves were wilted, but the roots held firm—the tree still stood tall.

"Remember me as I was," he whispered to his cousin, "for there is no returning from where I am about to go." He stood, ignoring the sting of smoke in his eyes and ash in the cracks of his skin. In the distance the hounds yelped, searching for the last remnants of the house of Locksley. He stood his ground, melting into the forest like a phantom. But he was there, watching and waiting with hatred burning in his heart. The dogs passed, but he lingered, awaiting their keepers.

"Looks like the Locksley boy took an arrow through the back," said a loud voice as two of the Sheriff's men found Joseph's body. "The Sheriff'll be pleased by that." In the shadows, a glint of silver gave the men their last salute. The speaker gave the body a sharp kick in the side while his companion spat on the ground near Joseph's head. Before the sound of the dull thud finished reverberating through the trees, two more bodies lay next to Joseph's, and moonlight was not the only thing that pooled on the forest floor. Robert stared as the full weight of his deed fell upon him. With a savage cry, he tore his hunting knife from his belt and turned it toward the nearest tree.

The Sheriff would come. He would find his men, and in the fury of this discovery he would find the message left for him.

**R.H.**

Robert felt sick with the scent of smoke and death, but he forged on through the forest. Will was still out here somewhere and he was determined to find him before the boy blundered his way into the soldiers hands. Will had never been the type to enjoy the outdoors like his brother and Robert. He preferred the delights of court with its fashions and intrigues. However, for someone who had never willingly spent an entire day outside in his life, he had vanished surprisingly well. Robert scanned the ground for any mark of his cousin's passage, but the fire had covered any and all signs indicating which way Will had gone. Robert spent the better part of an hour squinting through the darkness, his heart leaping at every swirl in the mud that might be the imprint of a boot, or every broken twig that might have caught on his cousin's sleeve, but in the end the forest told him nothing. Well, he conceded, if he could not find him then he knew without a doubt that the soldiers stood no chance at unearthing him. Robert had spent the past three years living off the land, sleeping in trees, and bathing in rivers. He very much doubted whether any man living knew more about surviving in the wild than he did.

Still, Will must be found before his good fortune ran out. The only place that Robert had not checked was the village. Will had lived in Locksley all his life and in his terror it was quite possible he would seek shelter among friendly faces. Robert's heart clenched at the thought of going back among the villagers. For most of his life he had considered himself one of them, yet they had turned on him without a moment's hesitation. Now that the soldiers were gone and they had no one to turn their anger on, he knew better than to walk down the streets without disguise. He looked down at his filthy cloak and travel-stained boots and the once white linen shirt now covered in soot. Lifting the edge of his cloak he wrapped it securely around his neck and shoulders, half covering his face. With so much going on in the village he doubted whether anyone would question a loyal servant searching for his master. To aid in the disguise, he assumed a slight limp as he neared the village. In his chest his heart beat frantically with fear.

His eyes burned with tears as the stink of smoke intensified. He coughed and wrapped his cloak more securely around his face to block out the smell. Villagers stood in small clusters staring at ruined dreams. He averted his face from the sight of a young woman crying against her husband's shoulder. It became less and less difficult to feign a stagger under the weight of so much guilt, and he valiantly fought back the impulse to turn tail and flee.

"Excuse me," he rasped to a young lad standing by the village well. The boy whipped around jerkily, but seemed to relax at the sight of him. "I am looking for my master, William of Locksley. He hasn't passed this way, has he?" The boy shook his head, turning back to his task. Robert sighed. "Do you know where he might have gone?" he pressed. Again the boy shook his head, clearly uninterested.

"He's as good as dead out there with _them_ chasing him," said a cold voice from the shadows. Robert glanced around at the newcomer and saw a young man close to his own age standing in wait for use of the well. His green eyes glittered with anger and a vicious satisfaction. "Lord William was hopeless in the forests. I used to go with him in the winter to check his father's traps and the idiot nearly set free every rabbit we ever caught."

"Each of us has our own talents," Robert growled, drawing himself up in defense of his cousin. The young man snorted derisively.

"His remain undiscovered then. I give the dolt a week before they have him strung out on a rack."

"You dare speak of your master so?" Robert's dark eyes glittered with warning as he clenched a fist around the hilt of his hunting knife.

"He is my master no longer and I can't say I am sorry to see him go, the arrogant prig."

"Hold your tongue!"

"If the idiot had any sense at all he would have stayed put in the forest. But instead he went running off up the road, as if the riders wouldn't chase him down like a dog."

"Which road did he take?" Robert asked with all the patience he could muster. His anger was momentarily subdued by the knowledge that someone had seen his cousin alive. The other shrugged and brushed past him to the well, clearly enjoying withholding the information from him, but Robert would not be dissuaded now.

"Aaron, tell him," said the first boy, whom Robert had all but forgotten, and who now stood back looking apprehensively between them. Aaron sent him a derisive look then smiled smugly over at Robert.

"I don't recall," he said, leering again. Furious, Robert crossed the distance between them in three strides, seized Aaron by the throat, and held up his hunting knife.

"Don't test me," he said quietly. "This night has been black enough." He had no intention of harming the young man, whose green eyes were now the size of saucers in his head; however the deaths of the two guards had changed and hardened him irrevocably and something of his newfound resolve must have communicated itself to Aaron. His bravado disintegrated.

"He took the south road, toward Nottingham," Aaron blurted out. "Perhaps he seeks shelter in Sherwood Forest. The soldiers wouldn't dare follow him in there." Robert released him, disgusted. Without a backward glance, he turned on his heel and set off for the south road. Sherwood Forest? Surely Will wasn't fool enough to go there. Only the fiercest criminals inhabited that forest and Will was far from capable of protecting himself against their like.

The journey to Nottingham was long and arduous, made more so by the weight of his guilt. Robert stopped at inns along the way to ask after his cousin and either his description was not detailed enough or Will had not traveled that way. Still Robert persevered. Nottingham was the only clue he had and he would not have peace until he knew for certain that it truly was a false hope.

Three years of wandering England had acclimated him to the tortures of travel. He was immune to the blisters throbbing on his feet, and it was almost easy to ignore the dull ache in his legs and spine. His gait was quick and on the fifth evening he found himself approaching the main gates of Nottingham. The sun was low in the sky, blinding him with its fiery orange brilliance.

Pulling his hood forward to shield his eyes, it was a few seconds before he could take in the large city stretched out before him. The day must have been Market Day for there were several stands erected along the main street. He hoped that what remained to be sold were the spoiled leftovers and not an indication of what the peddlers had been selling all day. The streets reeked of waste and refuse. Steaming piles from the many horses perfumed the air just inside the main gates. Many of the vegetables in the farmer's carts were rotted and stunk of decay. A low mumble filled the air as the citizens of Nottingham greeted each other, but he noticed that there was very little laughter. Glancing up and down the many side streets, he was shocked to see them crowded with colonies of beggars, peering out at him with their forlorn faces.

Surely a town of this size could not be so badly off, not when merchants traveled this way on a nearly daily basis. He looked around and saw carriages that revealed regal lords and ladies within.

They must take up residence at the castle, Robert surmised, for surely they would not immerse themselves in the squalor that hung over the main streets.

"Excuse me," Robert called, stopping a tall broad-shouldered man wearing a soot-stained apron and a filthy un-tucked linen shirt. "Where am I?" The man turned his head and cast Robert a suspicious glance.

"Where do you think you are? This is Nottingham, sir." Robert blinked.

"Surely this can't be the Nottingham that merchants speak of in London?"

"Aye, the very same," he replied gruffly. "And what is your business here?" He eyed Robert's filthy clothing with obvious dislike.

Forcing a friendly smile to his lips was difficult with the other man glaring at him so, but Robert managed as he held out his hand. "My name is Robin of Locksley," he said, using the childhood nickname his father had given him, "and I am trying to find a relative of mine. It seems he has run off and I have spent days trying to track him down. Have you seen him?" He gave the stranger Will's description but wasn't surprised when no spark of recognition flared in the silver eyes.

"My name is Phillip Smith, I am the blacksmith here in Nottingham and no, I can't say I have seen anyone that fits that description, but that isn't saying much. There are too many travelers through these parts to remember all of them. Robin of Locksley, eh? I heard rumors of the Sheriff's work in Locksley. No relation to the family that was recently murdered?" Robert's false cheer flickered painfully and he ducked his head before he could stop himself.

"No, no relation," he mumbled. The blacksmith took no notice of the shift in Robin's mood. His eyes were as dull as tarnished silver as they fixed upon the ground at his feet. Soot stains covered his face and sweat ran clear rivers through the grime smothering his neck and shoulders. Robin cleared his throat and took another stab at conversation.

"On my travels I heard rumors that the good Sheriff returns soon?" Life, which had not been there moments before, sprang into Phillip's face and turned the considerable muscles in his arms rigid with restraint.

"The 'good Sheriff' as you so kindly referred to him, returned just this morning. His servants bought up all the fresh vegetables for his welcoming celebration. What you see behind us is what he has left for his 'faithful subjects.'" He gestured at the rotting vegetables on the street. "He has been sheriff less than two years, but he thinks he is our king." He spat bitterly on the ground, wiping his sooty hand over his mouth with distaste. Robin nodded solemnly. The blacksmith was a young man, but already he moved as though he had lived the life of a man twice his age. He was like a sapling in the midst of a drought; every ounce of life in him was spent making it from one day to the next. Seeing that he had angered his companion, Robin excused himself to wander further along the streets. Night was quickly approaching and he needed a place to sleep. An inn on the corner called the 'Blue Boar' caught his eye, but he hesitated. He did not trust a place likely to be filled with the sheriff's eyes and ears. Turning around he walked back out of the village, choosing instead the sanctity of Sherwood Forest.

After the stink of the city, Sherwood's damp mossy scent seemed the sweetest perfume. Robin inhaled deeply of the rich earthy scent. As he walked he thought about the name he had given himself. Robin of Locksley. The name sounded strange, but it suited his new life better than Robert of Huntington ever would.

A twig snapped. Suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. His footsteps never faltered, but he reached for the longbow strapped across his back. Quickly he strung the bow, his eyes flicking in all directions even as he began to whistle a tuneless song. His senses turned blade-sharp; every breeze that ruffled the leaves filtered through the chestnut waves of his hair. Each call of the birds jolted though the veins in his skin and when another's footsteps pressed into the forest mud, he felt it as surely as if the foot had stepped across his own back.

He whirled around, arrow aimed a large bush that shuddered at his precise aiming. Robin's eyes turned stormy with rage.

"Come out of there," he commanded with all the authority he possessed. The bush twitched and shivered, and from within crawled a boy with a brilliant mop of white blonde hair. His enormous blue eyes fixed on the arrow aimed straight at his heart and he looked on the verge of tears.

"P-please, sir, I didn't mean any harm," he stammered in a high voice. Robin glowered.

"Why were you following me?"

"I wasn't, sir! I saw you coming and thought you might have come to take me away, so I hid there, sir." He was visibly shaking. Slowly, Robin lowered his bow.

"Why would I be after you?" The boy fidgeted, obviously afraid he'd said more than he ought, but he lowered his head dismally and replied, "I killed a King's deer."

Robin waited. Surely there must be more; he had spent the past three years feasting off deer he killed in all the forests of England. He began to laugh, causing the boy to raise his head in shock.

"It is a horrible offense in Nottingham," he replied defensively. "I could lose my right hand, or…" and here he trailed off, one of his hands reaching nervously for his throat. Robin couldn't believe it.

"Surely you wouldn't hang for shooting a deer."

"If the sheriff is especially angry I could." Any inclination Robin felt toward laughter quickly died. He knew from experience that Giles was often especially angry. This boy, who looked to be no older than thirteen, should not have to die over something so meaningless. In all honesty how was one to know whether a deer came from the King's forest or from somewhere else? Robin, who had an eye for such things, could tell right away that this lad was not a natural forester and it was no surprise that he had been discovered. He frowned.

"If you knew the price was so steep, why did you do it?" he asked quietly. The boy's face crumpled in on itself.

"I had no choice. My family was starving. Da used his last coins to pay the tax on his mill and there was nothing left to buy bread with. My sisters were starving and I just had to do something. I didn't think anyone would notice," he added, burying his head in his hands. Robin reached out and touched his shoulder.

"Tell me your name, boy," he said gently.

"Much," mumbled the boy into his hands. Robin smiled at the strange name.

"Well, Much, I will do what I can to help you. There are a great many crimes a man can commit in his life, some of which I am guilty of myself, but yours I'm afraid ranks quite low. You should not be put to death for something so meaningless, especially not when the crime was committed out of good intent." Robin pulled his forester hood low over his face and strode away into the forest. Much jumped and called after him.

"Oi…Hood, wait!" Robin froze. Much's face went red as Robin sent an amused look over his shoulder.

"Well what should I call you?" Much mumbled defensively. Robin gave no answer but just turned and kept walking deeper into Sherwood.

The Great Hall rang with the music of harps and flutes from a small band of players. Several dancers glided across the floor while the guests seated around the tables clapped in time to the beat. Giles of Northwood sat at the high table dressed elegantly in his family's colors: black and silver. A fine velvet tunic with billowy black sleeves tapered at the wrists and embroidered with silver designs across his broad chest gave him the appearance of a wealthy overlord rather than the dispossessed knight that he really was. His connections and family name had served well to reward him with the honorable seat as Sheriff in Nottingham and he enjoyed every moment of it.

"Milord!"

Suddenly, through the enormous archway leading from the kitchens came three servants bearing a deer carcass between them. Their expressions were apprehensive and even fearful as they deposited the dead animal on the table in front of Giles' seat. He sat up sharply, affronted.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"Look sir," cried one of the cooks, pointing shakily at the animal's side. There was a scrap of yellow parchment attached to the dead animal, pinned there by a single green-fletched arrow. Blood dribbled from the wound in the animal's side, staining the crimson tablecloth black. Glassy brown eyes stared up at the Sheriff lifelessly. Glancing around at his astonished guests, Giles rose furiously from his seat and strode around the table to snatch the arrow from the animal's side. A dribble of blood oozed from the wound to land on the floor near his carefully polished leather boots. Slowly, Giles plucked the note from the arrow and stared at it, reading silently. The hall waited with baited breath to hear what was written. His hand began to shake visibly and the yellow pallor of his skin turned scarlet. Still trembling with fury, he read the letter aloud.

An eye for an eye. Leave the miller boy to me.

The parchment crumbled to dust in Giles' fist and with controlled fury he flung the letter into the fireplace where it disintegrated in a flash of orange and gold.

"Who did this?" asked the Sheriff in a low voice. No one answered.

"WHO DID THIS!?" he roared, slamming his fists on the table, knocking his goblet of wine to the floor. The silence was unbearable. Noblemen shifted uncomfortably in their crisp tunics, and knights examined their cutlery with uncommon interest. Ladies clutched fans and handkerchiefs for fear of swooning. But no one dared speak. Giles swept the hall with his black eyes, glaring—accusing—them all.

_Thunk_. From a window high above them, an arrow sped straight for Giles, grazing his arm and sinking into the table. Shrieks and shouts of surprise echoed off the cavernous hall. He lurched for the arrow with a bellow to his guards to find the archer. Attached to this arrow was another note, written by a man straddling the line between daring and madness. He crumpled the note, flinging it into the fire just like the first, but not after memorizing what was written there.

**Compliments of Robin Hood.**

"Are you daft?" shouted Much, jumping up from his seat on the rock where Robin had left him to go deliver his 'gift' to the Sheriff. "You have stirred a mighty hornets' nest and you are fit to be stung to death." They were standing beneath the stone bridge that led to the main entrance of Nottingham Castle. Robin ignored him, recoiling the rope by which he had just made his escape. From under the hood his dark eyes surveyed the boy. Much glared at him, his chest heaving with emotion. Robin's obvious indifference to his feelings had brought a flush to his pale cheeks. Twitching the corner of his lip in a smile, Robin swung the coiled rope over his shoulder. For the moment he needed Much's indignation to override his fear, and the boy was quickly forgetting his apprehension.

"It's not only your life you're playing with! You have brought the Sheriff down upon my family! Why did I ever think you could help me?" Much protested, planting himself in Robin's path.

"You have my protection and the Sheriff knows it."

"_What protection_?" Much exploded, angry tears burning in his eyes. "The Sheriff fears _no one_. He will comb Sherwood until he finds you and not even your _tricks_ will save you when he does!"

Robin stopped, finally acknowledging the boy with his eyes. Slowly, he put down his rope and took Much by both shoulders, forcing him to look him in the eye.

"He won't find you," he said quietly. "I promise you that."

There was such certainty and finality in his voice that Much could do nothing but nod his head, sniffing as a tear spilled down his cheek. Robin gently ruffled the straight hair on the boy's head and hefted his rope back onto his shoulder. Sensing someone near, he withdrew his bow from its place on his back. Above them, a guard called out. Much gave a frightened gasp and made to run, but Robin flung an arm around his neck and dragged him back into the shadows of the bridge. Already a small army of guards had been sent to scour the countryside for _Robin Hood_, and Robin marveled that there were still guards left within the castle. He kept one hand clamped firmly over the boy's mouth as he cautiously craned his neck to look above them. He could see nothing, and he retreated slowly, backing into the shadows with his ears pricked for the slightest sound of castle guards. When it was clear that they hadn't been spotted, Robin jerked his head silently and lead Much along the ravine. They only stopped once they reached the safety of Sherwood Forest.

"Robin…" panted Much, gasping as he collapsed to his knees. "Why are you helping me? My freedom can't be more important to you than your life. Why do you hate the Sheriff so much?"

Robin grimaced and leaned against a tree, his chest heaving silently as his mind flew over the details that had brought him to this moment. His hatred of Giles of Northwood ran deep, instilled in him since the days of his youth. It was as much a part of him as his love of the forest. His young, rugged face became suddenly weary, revealing the weight of everything that he bore on his broad shoulders. Much climbed into the forked bows of the tree, his whole attention fixed on the mysterious, shadowy figure before him.

"I wasn't always like this; once I was a nobleman's son." Robin winced, regretting having started this story as a rush of emotions washed over him. "I grew up far from here. My family's castle was one of the finest I have ever seen. The year of my fifth winter, my father hired Giles to help him oversee our lands. His treachery led to my father's downfall, and I'll never forgive him for it." Much watched him curiously, but Robin lowered his eyes. "That was also the Christmas I received my first bow. I don't know what possessed Father to give it to me. I have always been skilled at causing mischief and the last thing I needed was a plaything to do it with. But from the moment I strung it for the first time, I felt something. Father felt it too when he took me outside to shoot the next day, because for a boy so young I showed remarkable promise. It was nearly a month before I was strong enough to sink my arrow into my target, but I kept at it and by the next summer it was a rare thing to ever see me miss my mark."

"Was your father proud?" asked Much.

Robin's smile flickered and he shook his head slowly; the warmth of the memory vanished as more memories resurfaced.

"Actually, my father did not live to see that day… but aye, I suppose he would have been." Much's face clouded and a splash of red colored his cheeks. Robin's sharp eyes caught the melancholy expression that crossed the boy's face and he shook his head.

"It was a long time ago, far too long for your pity to do me any good."

"What happened to him?"

"That's a story for another time; as for this one, it should be noted that at the moment my greatest enemy entered my life, I was blessed with an extraordinary talent. No man has ever bested me at archery and I very much doubt if anyone ever will. So long as I have this bow, all those who rely on me will be safe." Here he sent Much a meaningful look, withdrawing his bow from its sheath. Much nodded silently.

"Still," Robin added with a faint chuckle, "it does help that we only have to contend with the Sheriff's incompetent fools. With no cover and all the noise we were making a blind man could have captured us tonight." They laughed together, relieved to still be alive and free.

There was little time for laughing the next day. Nottinghamshire and the borders of Sherwood Forest crawled with the Sheriff's men. Were it not for Robin's calm manner and quick wit, Much would have worried himself to death. In truth, Robin put him into a false state of security with his jests of the Sheriff's incompetence and his own prowess at forestry.

"They're so close, Robin," whispered Much frantically as he and Robin perched in a tall yew tree. In the distance they heard the deputies beating at the brush to flush them out like quails on a hunt. Robin instructed Much to remain painfully still as the men approached.

"They'll spot us for sure," the boy moaned, covering his head with his hands. Robin sent him a swift glance, doing his best to remain calm himself.

"No. They'll not check the trees so long as we give them no reason to," he replied with a certainty he did not feel. Slowly but surely, the men below moved away. Much began to relax but Robin's hand clamped down on his bony wrist with crushing force.

"They'll soon return. We move further in." With the sound of a falling leaf, Robin eased his way along the branch. Doing his best to imitate Robin's movements Much followed him. Though his face remained fixed in its expression, Robin held his breath. Every nerve stretched for a sign of the Sheriff's men, and despite his efforts, Much was not being quiet. The squirrels, scrambling along the branches and rustling the leaves were silent compared to Much. Suddenly, their branch creaked in warning.

"This limb won't hold," hissed Much with desperation in his voice. Robin glanced over his shoulder and saw perspiration glistening on the boy's flushed face. At first, Robin thought he was afraid the branch would snap, but then he realized that Much, in his terror, had picked up on the sound that Robin's momentary lapse in attention had failed to notice. The Sheriff's men were returning. The branch beneath them creaked again, drooping slightly from strain.

"They'll be here any moment. We'll never escape." Much's voice cracked and he sounded on the verge of tears. Robin stared straight ahead, his mind racing.

"Do you trust me?" he asked in a low hollow voice. Much hesitated.

"Aye Robin, I do."

"Then do as I say." He paused. "When the branch breaks, make haste toward the river. I swear that I will meet you there." Almost as if by the command of his voice, the branch cracked again. There was a heart-stopping moment of inevitability before the limb broke. Much yelled, thrashing violently as he plunged toward the forest floor. In the distance, the Sheriff's men yelled and started running in their direction. Robin was on his feet in an instant, reaching for the bow strapped across his back. Deftly he strung it, his hands moving even as his brain pondered an escape.

"Robin!" hissed Much, confused.

"Go," said Robin calmly. "The river lies north of here." Much turned and fled, leaving Robin standing motionless and alone in the center of the wood. A small smile curled the corner of his mouth as a plan blossomed in his brain. With a low chuckle he faded into the forest, awaiting the Sheriff's men.

"Oi, they were here!" shouted a tall, lanky deputy, pointing out the fallen branch. Robin stood frozen just behind the wide base of the tree from which the branch had come. Though he stood in all but plain view, no one noticed him. Carefully, he peered around the trunk of the tree and raised his bow. The guards stood in a loose circle, staring everywhere but at him. Robin took careful aim and fired. The green-fletched arrow rustled the leaves of a large shrub just opposite his hiding place. At once the four men rushed to inspect it. Silently, Robin replaced his bow to its sheath and picked up a cudgel he had cut from the fallen branch.

"He's here still," said the deputy, brushing aside the branches of the shrub to find nothing there.

"Looking for me?"

The four men whirled around, but he was already upon them. With no warning and no time to defend themselves, the guards were easy prey. Too surprised to see him they put up little defense. He landed blow after blow until the four were given no choice but to flee for their skins.

"Send the Sheriff my regards!" Robin crowed. He gave a deep throated laugh that resounded through the trees as though all of Sherwood were taunting the Sheriff's men along with him. Grinning, Robin swung his cudgel over his shoulder and walked purposefully through the forest making as much noise as he pleased. Here among the trees he was a god, free to do whatever he pleased without fear of persecution; no one could touch him here.

"Are you all right?' asked Much anxiously, emerging from his place behind a large shrub when he saw Robin approaching. Robin smiled, swinging the club across one shoulder.

"Aye, and not a scratch on me."

Much stared, appalled. There were few in Nottingham who met with the Sheriff and his men and returned alive, much less unscathed. Robin was unaware of this, but he did take note of the boy's awe. It only served to increase his already overlarge opinion of himself.

"It was little more than a well-deserved thrashing. But it's time we press on. There is still danger here." Suddenly, Much hunched his shoulders and before Robin's eyes he shrank in size.

"We can't cross here. Little is on guard."

"Eh?"

"John Little is on guard at the bridge and the only way through him is a fight if you can't pay the toll." Robin cocked his head thoughtfully to one side.

"I've bested four of the Sheriff's men; I can easily best this 'little' fellow." Robin, full of pride and self-assurance, brushed past Much as though he were a shrub. Much's face paled.

"No, you don't understand…!" he called, but it was too late, for Robin had already pushed aside the branches that hid the river from view.

He was a Christian man, but standing before him was none other than the largest, fiercest-looking giant out of the old pagan legends he could ever imagine. Even Robin, who never backed down from any fight, gave pause and rethought his actions.

"I thought you said they call him 'little'," he muttered over his shoulder. Much shrugged.

"It's more a village jest than a truth." Robin made a face.

"It's no jest; it's an outright lie."

They were not standing far from where John Little stood, and he heard every word of the conversation with ease. He chuckled at Robin, the sound rumbled like an earthquake from his colossal chest.

"Aye, they call me Little," he said with a grin, leaning forward on an immense quarterstaff nearly twice the size of Robin's. His broad, rosy face broke into a wide grin when he spotted Much. He chuckled, his great shoulders shaking.

"So here be where you run off to, eh? Got all of Nottingham in an uproar over you. Your poor mother's been cryin' her eyes out." Much laughed and stepped forward.

"My mum wouldn't waste her tears on me."

"Nor would I, you little devil!" They laughed together, forgetting Robin's presence momentarily. Robin took the opportunity to size up the giant. There could be no doubt that this stranger had lived his life at labor because the muscles that caused his tunic sleeves to bulge were hardened to the solidity of boulders. Despite his formidable appearance, his face seemed pleasant enough, what with his cornflower blue eyes and short, dark curls. On a smaller scale he might have appeared boyish, but the sheer vastness of his size eliminated any chances of mistaking him for a boy. After a moment, John Little raised his eyes and fixed them on Robin. A small smile touched the corner of his mouth.

"So this be the one that's got the Sheriff's feathers ruffled. You're a damned fool, Robin Hood." Robin kept his face impassive, but hearing his new name uttered by this stranger threw him off balance. John Little chuckled again.

"Aye, you've got Nottingham all stirred up. There's bettin' as to how long you'll last before the Sheriff sniffs you out." It was Robin's turn to smile.

"There's no man alive that can capture me." John Little threw back his head with a hearty laugh.

"As soon as I heard what you did up at the castle I knew you were daft. You must have cracked your skull to have done what you did, and under Giles' own nose as well." Robin shrugged with a careless smile.

"I'm not so daft as to not know when to cease. Now, stand aside so I may find shelter on the other side of the river." John's eyes twinkled and he winked at Much.

"Sorry lad, but you see I can't do that. Any man who wishes to cross this bridge must pay the toll."

"Alas, I have no money," said Robin, smiling as he anticipated the challenge. Little grinned, baring his small, yellow teeth.

"Then you must earn it. I challenge you to a quarterstaff duel, Robin Hood. It ends when you cry 'enough' or when you tumble into the stream, and you can swim across from there." He winked at Much again, who grinned as though it were all some marvelous joke. Robin looked between them and knew he was expected to refuse. John Little looked capable of cracking his skull with his bare hands. However, a wave of recklessness fell upon Robin as a breeze whistled through the trees. A cocky twinkle came into his eye.

"Very well John Little, I accept." John Little chuckled again and straightened up, shrugging his shoulders. Robin was forced to crane his neck to maintain eye contact with the giant. A tiny voice of reason warned him to take back his boasts, but Robin had just defeated the Sheriff's men and there was nothing but bold recklessness inside him. He stepped forward, swinging his club off his shoulder. John Little merely shook his head, smiling.

"Aye, mad as a hatter."

John Little straightened from his cudgel slowly, enjoying the rush of emotions that flashed across Robin's face. Little was nearly two heads taller than Robin, and each of his limbs was nearly three times the size. Judging from the comfortable way he swung his club from one hand to the other, he knew what he was about and despite his tremendous size, he moved with surprising grace.

"Don't be daft, Robin," called Much with a laugh. "Ole John could split your head with one blow. He's the quarterstaff champion for three shires." Though this did nothing for Robin's confidence it served to strengthen his resolve. He refused to be made a fool here before these two.

"No, once I crack your skull John Little I'll watch you float along the Thames. After I am finished cutting you down to size, they will have no choice but to call you _Little John_."

"You're a Robin that likes to crow, 'twill be my pleasure to clip your wings."

They moved towards the center of the bridge. Much stood on the bank, grinning at this unexpected turn of events. His fear of the Sheriff's men had completely vanished. Robin found himself standing in Little's shadow as they moved to face each other and his hands grew warm with nerves. They counted slowly backwards from ten, and the duel began.

There could be no doubt the eventual outcome. Little was head and shoulders above Robin, was perhaps three times stronger, and no matter how hard Robin's blow landed, Little took a hit far better than Robin could. But it was by no means an easy battle. Little John attacked first, swinging for Robin's head. Robin ducked under the blow but heard it whistle past his ear. He retaliated with a swift jab to Little's stomach, but the giant blocked it with his club. Little shoved him back, and the force of it nearly knocked Robin off the bridge, but he regained his balance and moved forward again.

Robin gave up on using strength and let his speed and size work to his advantage. Rather than trying to land the hardest clout, he made sure to land the most. The battle waged for the good part of an hour, Much wincing with each echoing thud of wood against flesh. Neither held back; Little wheezed like a bull as he swung the heavy club again and again. Robin did his best to stay one step ahead of him, but as the battle waged on, even his speed began to wane. John clipped him on the elbow and the club flew out of Robin's hand as he emitted a loud oath. Before he had time to duck, Little's cudgel struck him a glancing blow across the shoulder and bashed him soundly across the right side of his face.

There was a moment in which Robin ceased to think. He wasn't aware of his feet leaving the ground, but suddenly he found himself sprawled face-first in the river. A grinding pain in his shoulder drew his attention and instinctively he drew in a sharp gasp of air against it. But instead of air it was water he pulled into his lungs. He might have drowned right there had not Much and John fished him out.

"Are you all right?" asked Little, his face full of concern as he bodily picked Robin up and set him on his feet. Robin swayed slightly. His face hurt fiercely, but he hid any show of it. Merely for pride's sake, he thumped himself on the chest.

"Aye, it would take more than a clout on the head to finish me off," he said with all the bravado he could muster. His weak knees chose that moment to give way beneath him. John Little laughed, catching him with one arm.

"You nearly had your head knocked off and you still see fit to talk. Could it be you need another round?"

Robin was proud, but he was no fool. His head fell forward onto his chest in defeat; he began to chuckle.

"No, I admit when I am beaten."

"It's the first bit of sense I've heard from you since we met."

Little clapped him on the shoulder, nearly knocking Robin over. "For all your crowing, you're a good man and an even better opponent. I pray there be no hard feelings." Robin shrugged this aside with a mere shake of his head.

"No, it was a fair fight and you fought honorably. Clearly the better man won."

They shook hands. Little beamed, obviously grateful that Robin had taken his loss so well. Robin hesitated a moment, craning his neck to look up into his opponents face.

"Care to join me?"

"Eh?" asked John, tilting his head to one side.

"I have made an enemy of Giles of Northwood and it's the beginning of a long and dangerous battle. I would be honored to have you as my ally. From his infancy, Giles has been a corrupt man and his evil has grown too strong of late. He has too much power and his subjects are soon to feel his wrath if they have not already. The people here are poor and hungry and one only has to walk down the main street of Nottingham Town to realize how helpless they are to improve their lot." John Little sighed.

"Aye, it's a good cause, and a well-needed one, true enough. But what if Giles were to catch you?" Robin smiled. It was a mixture between a challenge and a promise, full of understanding and reassurance.

"I might have been born into a life of lords and ladies, but it's here I stand. Any man that stands with me will be given his just reward and will be under my protection. I have seen death and I am not afraid to face it. Surely you have seen the injustices meted out by that scoundrel. If we stand united, we can overcome his tyranny." A gleam came into Robin's dark eyes. Little looked between Robin and Much, uncomfortable.

"You talk a fair speech, Robin, but you are noble and I am common-born. It's no mark against you, but how do I know I can trust you?"

"Because he is just like us now, John," spoke up Much, stepping between them. Smiling, Robin put a hand on the boy's shoulder and looked back up at John.

"You can trust me because I give you my word as an outlaw that you will not be sorry."

Looking between them once more Little began to smile.

"Well, if you put it that way, then I suppose you give me no choice. Aye, I'll join you, Robin Hood."


	2. Chapter 2

Giles was beside himself. His men had failed him again. Their mission had not been a difficult one: bring back the head of the outlaw Robin Hood and the names of any man who followed him. It was a routine assignment, one they had done perhaps a hundred times before, yet every day for the past week these brainless oafs had returned empty-handed.

"We found no trace of him, Milord," said the youngest soldier of the lot, a fair-haired man named Alan.

"Yet he managed to rob you of your sword!" exploded Giles, his face livid. Young Alan only stared at him. The sight of the man's pitiful face threw Giles into such a fit of rage that he pulled back his gloved hand and struck him full in the jaw, dropping him to his knee. The rest of the line made no movements. Alan was a hopeless soldier; his compassion often got in the way of his duties, but he was well-respected by the others for his determination and willingness to work. Still, no one dared interfere on his behalf against the Sheriff. Taking several deep breaths, Alan raised his blue eyes to Giles' face.

"For that I am sorry, Milord," he said, his words quivering with suppressed anger, "but this man is not like the others we have captured before. He is a shadow among the trees and so long as you insist on trying to capture him in his element, your missions will fail."

The boy spoke true and Giles knew it, but to be so boldly contradicted in front of his men was not to be borne. He raised his fist to strike him again, but his lieutenant, Guy of Gisborn, caught his wrist. Giles swung around.

"The boy has the tongue of a minstrel. Pay no heed to his words. What you need consider is that every time your men fail to bring back the outlaw's head, it elevates his status in the eyes of the people. There were few who were happy when the Miller's son was outlawed for poaching, and you must consider the impression this Robin Hood made upon them when he declared the lad under his protection. If you are not careful, you will make a martyr of him, and that is the last thing you want." Giles nodded.

"Then there are two things that must be done and as efficiently as possible to discredit this fiend. First, go to the Miller's house and promptly arrest the entire family," Giles said to the men assembled in front of them. They nodded and quickly turned to do as they were assigned. Slowly, Alan got to his feet, anger and humiliation burning in his eyes as he glared at the Sheriff.

"Forgive me, Milord, but the Miller's eldest daughter is betrothed to me. May I please be assured that she will come to no harm?"

"I am no tyrant, Alan. I am not in the habit of torturing young women. Now, do as you're told!" said Giles, a cold bite to his voice. Alan stared at him for long seconds before he gave a small nod and rushed to catch up with the others.

"Milord, you said there were two things that must be done," prompted Lieutenant Gisborn as he and Giles watched Alan run off.

"Aye, I want you to send word to the hangman that his services will be required this afternoon."

Lieutenant Gisborn's eyebrows arched, though he showed no outward sign of surprise by the decree. Giles' lip curled with cunning.

"I must discredit the claims that Robin Hood has made. However, if by some chance Robin Hood should try to intervene to make good on his promise, then you and your men will deal with him accordingly." Giles' black eyes glittered. Lieutenant Gisborn looked thoughtful.

"Do you truly intend to hang the entire family?"

"No, I need only hang one. With the Miller dead, his family will soon starve to death on their own."

Giles waited as his orders were carried out. It took longer than he would have liked, but finally the terrified family was assembled before him. There was a long gash across the father's head and the youngest daughter, Emily, was in tears. Alice, the oldest daughter, was trembling against her mother, who looked on the verge of fainting. Giles smiled inwardly. The more fear they showed, the better.

"Silence!"

The small family jumped, but there was instant compliance. He glared at them, his mouth curling into a smile as he saw the youngest daughter shrink back from his stare. A strong resemblance ran in the family of blue eyes and hair the color of straw. The women were stout and sturdy, save Alan's Alice, who was lithe and lean as a dancer. Though she was too simple for his tastes, Giles could see why the boy worshiped her so.

"Do you understand why I have summoned you here?" Tremulously, they shook their heads. "I have summoned you because of your son, Much," he said.

"Is he alive?" interrupted Helen, the Miller's wife. "You haven't hurt him have you?" Giles fixed her with his coldest stare, so icy it froze her stiff. Her hands clasped over her mouth as if in prayer and her small, blue eyes widened with pleading.

"Your son remains lost." He provided time for the mother's show of relief. "However, the charge of poaching must still be dealt with, not to mention the fact that he has taken up with outlaws. As your son is not present, you all must pay the penalty." This speech was met with stupefied silence.

"And what is the penalty?" asked the father, Dustin bravely. Giles said nothing for a long time, relishing the fear that crossed all their faces. Unconcernedly, he nodded his head towards the space over the family's shoulders. There, the hangman had erected his scaffold. To his satisfaction, the entire family gave a collective gasp. Dustin whirled about and made to lunge at the Sheriff, until a guard standing behind him cuffed him hard so that he fell to his knees. Giles folded his arms and stared coldly down at the man scuffing the carefully polished leather of his boots.

"You heartless dog! You would murder innocent women and children? I will go in my son's place if I must, but do not hurt my family." He raised his head to look into Giles' eyes. Giles stared back, unmoved by the passionate display. A real man would not accept such a thing lying down; a real man would fight. This miller was as disgraceful as a mutt in a kennel of purebred hounds. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Giles kicked at him to show him just how much of a _dog_ Dustin really was.

"Your whole family swings at dusk for harboring an outlaw. I will not tolerate my subjects giving support to traitors."

"Sir!" Giles swung around; Alan had stepped out of rank once more. "You promised you wouldn't hurt them." A murmur swept through the rest of the line. Giles sent them all one cold, fierce look, commanding instant silence. Slowly, he advanced on the young soldier, moving with the terrifying grace of a tiger. Alan stayed his ground, his fists curled at his sides. Giles stopped when he was barely inches from him.

"Speak again and it will be you to kick the chair from beneath their feet." Alan's bushy brows united in a fierce line over his dark eyes. Giles curled his lip, knowing full well it would only gall the boy more. Alan continued to stare at him, his chest heaving as he fought to keep himself under control.

"Very well, Alan," said Giles silkily, "I will spare young Alice's life. Lieutenant Gisborn!"

"Aye, Sir?" said Lieutenant Gisborn, stepping forward.

"Prepare yourself; _you_ are to be married this afternoon." Giles enjoyed watching the expression change on Alan's face, how the bravado vanished in a rush of crestfallen despair. Alice let out a shriek of refusal behind them. Alan staggered, turning his eyes on his beloved. Giles looked down his long, thin nose with satisfaction.

"Let this be a lesson to you of what happens when you disobey me. You are dismissed of your services. Now get out of my sight." He strode past him, but he heard Alan fall to his knees. Lieutenant Gisborn walked over to take his future bride by the arm; there was little in his expression or gesture that suggested he was happy in the unexpected engagement. She wailed, calling out to Alan, but Alan turned his head away, knowing it was no use to go after her.

Giles was almost across the courtyard when suddenly Alan jumped to his feet.

"You deserve what happens to you! Damn you to Hell, Giles of Northwood!" Alan stormed off in the opposite direction. No one made to stop him but Giles didn't care. His ire had burned itself out and all that remained was the satisfaction of seeing everything firmly under his control once more. Behind him, the rest of the small family were led away to await their execution. They would not be permitted to attend their daughter's wedding. The sound of their cries sent crows from the ramparts soaring into the sky.

In Sherwood, Robin was uneasy. The enthusiasm with which he had begun this campaign was beginning to ebb away as reality set in. What was he thinking? Did he honestly think he stood a chance against Giles with naught but a boy and a giant by his side? Giles was sly and as slippery as a snake. And now, Robin had promised both Much and Little John that he could secure their safety.

Robin sat in the forked bows of a dead tree while Much and Little John spoke of other men who'd been foolhardy enough to challenge John to a duel. They roared with laughter, all but forgetting about Robin. He sighed and peered up at the sky through the leaves above him.

"Something troubling you?" asked Little John suddenly, catching him by surprise. With a faint start, Robin looked down at him. There was not much difference in their ages. Little John had him by less than five years, but Robin felt the instinctive need to shelter him from the truth.

"No, John," he muttered. "I just need to stretch my legs." He climbed out of the tree and began walking. He swiped a hand through his dark hair and plodded on aimlessly. Despite his mind's preoccupation, his senses remained perfectly alert and almost without realizing it, he became aware of a presence close by. He stilled his steps to listen. Judging by the erratic thrashing, the approaching figure was not one of the Sheriff's men.

"Robin Hood! Wherever you are, I need your help!" Robin was no fool, but his curiosity rose.

"Who are you, stranger?" he called. His cloak was so travel worn that he blended seamlessly into the forest without having to stoop and hide.

"I am Alan and I come seeking your aid. The Sheriff has taken the Miller and his family hostage and plans to hang them at dusk!" Alan spun around, talking to the forest as though he expected Robin to be a spirit rather than a man. Robin swore under his breath. Although he sensed a trap, the man's story sounded like just the sort of thing Giles would do. He remained silent, debating whether or not the man could be trusted.

"Please, you must believe me!" cried Alan in despair. There was such wretchedness in his voice that Robin knew he spoke the truth.

"Aye, I believe you, Alan, but tell me why you are so desolate?" Robin stepped into view. Alan swung around to face him and Robin could see that whatever the sheriff had done, it had destroyed Alan's whole world. He heaved a great sigh. "What wrong has the Sheriff inflicted upon you?"

"I was betrothed to the Miller's eldest daughter. I have loved her since we were infants, and because I spoke out against him the Sheriff is marrying her off to his lieutenant this very afternoon. Forgive me, this is not why I have come. Because you have defied him and taken Much under your wing, the Sheriff intends to hang Much's entire family. You must find a way to save them!" Robin could hardly comprehend what he was hearing.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention and I promise that I will do all in my power to right these wrongs so long as I have your word you will not betray me to the Sheriff thereafter." Alan shook his head fiercely.

"If you manage to undo what the Sheriff has done, I will not only swear never to betray you, but I will forever be your comrade in arms." Robin smiled.

"Then welcome, Alan. Now, go back to Nottingham and I will meet you at the chapel." The look of absolute relief that washed over Alan's features made Robin feel like a king. Alan departed back the way he had come, hope holding his head high. Robin flew back to the others to tell them the news. Much whirled around white-faced when Robin burst in upon them. One look at his face told the others all they needed to know.

"Is it the Sheriff?" blurted Much before Robin could speak. He sighed.

"Aye, it's the Sheriff. He has captured your family and plans to hang them by dusk. Much, your sister, does she love a man named Alan?" Although Robin trusted Alan, he needed a small confirmation that he spoke the truth. Confused, Much nodded.

"Aye, Alan a Dale, but what has that to do with anything? What about my family! What am I going to do?" he moaned. He looked almost sick with worry. Robin stilled and gave him the most reassuring smile he could summon.

"Hope is not lost, Much, but I need you to stay here. Little John, come with me. We are headed for the chapel, but arm yourself, for we will almost certainly encounter the Sheriff." Robin turned to go, but Much ran forward and seized his elbow.

"The chapel? Why are you going there? We need to save my family!"

"Aye, I am doing just that, but first I have a promise to keep. Now leave off." Reluctantly, Much released him. Robin gave a brief nod and he and Little John hurried on through the forest.

"You should have let him come," said Little John as they tramped through the forest. "You're telling him he's not man enough to protect his family. It's his right to protect the ones he loves."

"No, John, he is too close to this; he would put himself at risk for naught. It's better this way. Now I can keep my promise to protect him."

"And who did you make this promise to?" Robin hesitated, making Little John laugh. "Could you stand idly by and leave the fate of your loved ones in someone else's hands?" Robin swallowed and carefully ducked his head to hide the flicker of pain that crossed his features. If only Little John knew what he was saying.

The atmosphere inside the chapel was that of a funeral rather than a wedding. The candles lit by one of the hooded monks were the only warmth in the small room. As Giles walked the bride down the aisle, she began to wail, pulling against him as she tried to break free. Giles dragged her along, pretending not to notice. He was more than happy to hand her off to Gisborn at the altar. She shrieked, howling for Alan and weeping pitifully. Gisborn bowed his head to Giles, but didn't bother to acknowledge his bride. The thin line of his mouth was curled in disdain; whether he disapproved of her behavior or the girl herself, it mattered not to Giles. Although it had seemed the perfect revenge against Alan at the time, this charade had gone on long enough and now he was bored with it. Gisborn took the girl by the wrist and held her in his manacle grip, silencing her with a merciless squeeze without looking at her.

"Are we ready to proceed, Milord?" asked the friar, hopelessly ignoring the girl's whimpers. Giles waved his hand impatiently; his mind was concentrated on the execution that would take place later that evening. Surely Robin Hood would come to such a public opportunity to display his daring. No matter what the outlaw attempted, his men would be ready, but for now, he had to endure this painful ceremony. He studied the bride again and admitted to himself that as peasants went her form was not so displeasing. Gisborn could have done worse.

The wedding was to be short because Giles refused to waste any more time than was necessary. It wasn't as if this marriage was one anyone was looking forward to. No doubt Gisborn was already plotting how best to be rid of the shrieking banshee. Giles let his gaze stray from the sobbing bride to absentmindedly follow the progress of the monk lighting the candles. Even his dreary job seemed more fascinating that the wedding. An eternity passed before the friar asked for objections to the union. Giles didn't wait for an answer before he stepped forward to give Gisborn a customary word of congratulations.

"I speak out against this union," said a loud voice. Giles whipped around. Who dared…? The hooded monk who stood beside the friar had lifted his head. Surprised, the friar turned to him with raised eyebrows.

"Brother, why you do not wish these two to be unified in holy matrimony?" Despite his carefully neutral tone, Giles suspected the friar was relieved that someone had spoken up. He narrowed his eyes at the hooded cleric, furious for the interruption.

"She does not love this man," was the clear reply. The voice that spoke was not the soft tones of a holy monk, but one of arrogance and amusement.

"Not all unions can be made for love, brother," replied the friar. He tilted his head to try and peer under the monk's hood.

"Well," said the monk as he pulled back the hood of his robes to reveal a young, handsome face, stained by earth yet shining with determination "at least we can save this man from being a cuckold the rest of his life." Robin stepped forward and knelt to lift the trembling bride from her knees. She sniffled, leaning away from him as though afraid he might strike her.

"Sweet Alice, today I give you a choice," he said in a soft, calming tone. "If you had the opportunity to marry any man in the world, who would it be?" The girl gave a small indrawn breath, clasping his hand in both hers as she peered into his face. A tear slipped down her cheek and she glanced fearfully at the Sheriff, but Robin shook his head.

"This isn't about his wishes, it is about yours. Tell me, to whom does your heart belong?" She closed her eyes against a fresh wave of silent tears and bowed her head.

"Alan a Dale," she whispered, so that only he could hear. Robin smiled and laid a hand gently on her head.

"Then wed Alan a Dale, for he has gone to great lengths to seek my aid. Now you can both be happy. This is my wedding gift to you." He gestured toward the back of the chapel. Slowly, fearfully, the girl raised her head and looked around. At Robin's words, the door to the chapel creaked open and Alan entered, dressed in his finest robes, followed by Little John who had to bend almost double to pass through the tiny door. Alice gasped, covering her face with her hands. Smiling, Alan began to walk toward her, ignoring Robin and the Sheriff. His eyes were only for her. Laughing and sobbing, she flung herself at him and clung to him for dear life.

"There is your proof that this marriage cannot go on, Friar," said Robin quietly.

"This has never happened before. I am quite at a loss for what to say," stammered the friar in bafflement. A smile touched his lips.

"The vows have been given, simply proclaim these two man and wife instead and everything will be as it should be," Robin answered. Wordlessly, the friar nodded.

"No!" shouted Giles, striding forward. "I won't stand for it!" Little John growled deep in his throat and smacked his cudgel against his fist. Giles seemed to wither before his gaze.

"Guards! Guards!" he shouted, but Little John smirked.

"They're a bit tied up at the moment, Sheriff. They won't be much help to you now."

"Milord, let us be done with it!" snapped Gisborn, scowling at Robin. "I care not for the girl." The Friar took this as consent and proclaimed what had always been true: Alan and Alice would be spiritually joined until the end of their days. They kissed and embraced with tears spilling down their cheeks and laughter ringing throughout the tiny church. Gisborn's long face soured considerably; he stormed away from the altar would have left the church altogether had not Little John blocked his passage with his cudgel. Little John gave a mocking shake of his head. "Not just yet." Gisborn snarled, balling his fists, but Little John pushed him back a few paces with the end of his staff.

Giles stood rooted to the spot, rigid with fury. He was powerless to do anything to stop this, yet he felt the consuming urge to arrest the lovers for outwitting him. He started toward them, ignoring Little John behind him, and so consumed by hatred was he that he failed to notice Robin slip up behind him. The point of a dagger pressed into the small of his back as an arm wound around his throat. With a cry, Gisborn reached for his sword, but Little John cracked him over the head with his cudgel, dropping him like a stone. Giles struggled, but the arm around his windpipe squeezed him into submissiveness.

"I am warning you Sheriff, give again what is not in your power to give and I will destroy everything that you hold dear just as you did to me so long ago."

"Who are you?" muttered Giles through clenched teeth.

"I am your darkest dream made real, for I know your secrets and the dark deeds in your past, and I will do all in my power to expose you as the coward and villain that you are. Remember this lesson, Sheriff… _courtesy of Robin Hood_." And at the sound of the name, the point of the blade was removed from the Sheriff's back. Giles lingered a fraction of an instant, awaiting a lethal blow, but none came. When he spun around, there was no one there save for the friar, who was still smiling over the unexpected happy ending to the wedding, and Gisborn who was gingerly getting to his feet and rubbing the back of his head. Fuming, Giles gestured at Gisborn to go after the scoundrels and found that the door to the church had been barricaded from the outside.

"_Damn you, Robin Hood!_"

That night in Sherwood Forest there was much rejoicing as the entire Miller family, Alan, Robin, and Little John celebrated the fact that they were all safe together. Although they were all grateful to Robin for having rescued them from the gallows, the thing that everyone seemed most grateful for was Robin arranging the marriage between Alice and Alan. Next to that daring tale, the one of how he had stolen the keys to the dungeons from the Sheriff's belt loop paled in comparison. Still, Emily eagerly recounted the story for Much, embellishing bits and pieces so that instead of the hasty escape they had managed with Robin and John disguised as guards come to lead them away it sounded more like Robin had singlehandedly infiltrated the castle dungeons and battled a hundred guards to get them to freedom. Robin preferred her daring adventure over the nerve-racking ordeal he had suffered, praying they weren't discovered and that the Sheriff remained locked in the chapel long enough for them to make their escape.

"Oh Robin Hood, how can we ever thank you?" asked Alice, beaming as she sat next to Alan, hugging his arm. Robin shook his head averting his eyes shyly. "It was nothing, Miss Alice."

"No Robin, what you did took courage the likes of which Nottingham hasn't seen in many years," said Alice's father, Dustin. Robin only acknowledged this with another faint bob of his head. Such adoration was foreign to him and he was unsure how to handle it.

"Giles and I have known each other a long time, Sir. Believe me it takes no courage to face a coward." Robin stole a glance at the newlyweds who were gazing into each other's eyes as though the world would stop if they looked away.

"You risked your life for us. I'll not forget it. If there is ever anything you need of me don't hesitate to ask."

"I assure you it was nothing. The Sheriff thinks himself king here in Nottingham. I think differently. I serve no other king than King Henry and any man that aims to take his place is guilty of treason in my eyes. The Sheriff is powerful, but his evil deeds cannot go unchallenged any longer."

"Will you do it alone?" asked Emily. Sitting next to her brother she could have been his double were it not for her long blonde braid and thick, dark lashes. Robin smiled.

"No. The Sheriff has his guards and I have men of my own." He glanced from Much to Alan to Little John and suddenly his certainty wavered. He looked around at them seated around the fire he had built. Although they didn't realize it yet, their safety rested with him. His chest rose and fell heavily, but he forced a cheerful smile.

"You must be hungry after such a trying day. I would be a poor host indeed if I were to let my guests starve on their first night in my company. I will return shortly with dinner and we can celebrate properly."

Forcing a smile, Robin began to withdraw. He had hoped to go alone, but Little John rose and followed him. Quietly, they slipped away from the warmth of the fire and melted into the darkness of the wood.

"Bitten off more than you can chew, eh, Robin?" asked Little John abruptly once the sound of the small family's laugher had sufficiently faded into the distance. Surprised, Robin sent him a calculating glance. Little John laughed.

"You're a brave man and better than most, but you're not a god. I saw the look on your face back there. You know you can't keep them safe forever."

"I gave them my word, therefore I must," said Robin simply, staring straight ahead.

"You started this crusade on zeal alone and look where it's got you. You need men to fight a war." Robin stopped walking.

"I can't be responsible for the lives of more men."

"Oh get off your high horse!" Little John snorted. "Did you not see their faces back there? They would follow you to hell and back after what you did for them today. You can't save everybody, Rob, but you can give them something to believe in. Raise a call and I swear to you you'll get an answer." Robin took in what the giant was saying. Little John began to laugh again, folding his great arms over his barrel chest. "Look at you. When you signed me up for this mad venture you were full of promises of glory and doing the right thing no matter the cost, and now you're scared to ask others to do the same? What you don't understand, being a nobleman and all, is that there is a lifetime of hatred born into every peasant for every lord who takes what isn't rightly theirs. Giles is the worst of the lot; promise to dispose of him and every able-bodied man in England will rally round you."

As Little John spoke, Robin envisioned what he spoke of. Aye, the people of Nottingham were oppressed and what he wanted to offer them was not a battle, but something better. He wanted the Greenwood to ring with the sound of laughter and song. He could just imagine what fun it would be to drink and feast every night living solely off the earth and on whatever else they chose. The greatest way to incur Giles' wrath was not to humiliate him and bait him, but to ignore him. Giles viewed himself as near to a god, and to set up a place where the title of Sheriff of Nottingham was nothing more than a joke would be more than he could stand.

"John, you're right. But before we go about recruiting men, we need to bring back supper for the few that we already have." They chuckled and continued their quest for dinner.

Hours later, when Alan and Alice had retired to a secluded area and Much and the others were beginning to grow drowsy, Robin made his way over to Dustin the Miller. Upon his approach, the old man smiled.

"Forgive me, but I have come to ask you to make good on your promise," said Robin quietly, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb Helen, who lay dozing with her head on her husband's shoulder. Dustin nodded.

"Aye?"

"Send word throughout all the shires of Nottingham that any able-bodied man with a thirst for justice may join me here in the Greenwood." Dustin squinted up at him through the darkness. The fire had begun to die out and all he saw of Robin was his dark silhouette.

"I'll send word Robin, but are you ready for all the men who will answer your call?" Robin said nothing to this and bowed himself out of the Miller's presence. As he walked across the clearing that night, he had a strange feeling that they were all on the verge of something great, something that would change them forever.

Giles of Northwood paced back and forth in his study. His black robes hissed along the tiled floor. _How dare he,_ he thought bitterly. How dare that insolent cur accost his men in the forest? What sort of demon was this Robin Hood? "A ghost," his men had said. Damn them, the fools. Giles did not believe in ghosts or forest spirits. This forest lord was a man of flesh and blood and like any other criminal he deserved to hang. But how did one go about capturing a man whose knowledge of the forest was in his very blood? This Robin could disappear in the blink of an eye, and he blatantly poached on his—the Sheriff's—deer. Giles slammed his leather-gloved fist against his oak desk.

"_How dare he_?" he bellowed. The news of the outlaw's most recent insult still festered in his memory. Five of his men had been stripped of their money and forced to dine with the foresters in their camp; the guards were treated as 'honored guests,' given the finest victuals they had eaten for months, and given the best wine they had ever tasted—so the men said. The audacity of Hood to feed the Sheriff's men, off meat stolen straight from the King's forest no less!

"He dares mock me to my face," muttered Giles bitterly. "He dares tempt my fury?"

Someone knocked timidly on the door and Giles whirled around, half-tempted to hurl his candlestick at them.

"Who is it?" he roared. The response was slow in coming.

"Urgent n-news, Sir," called his lowly servant, Lionel. "King Henry is dead." Giles swore, raked his fingers through his greasy black hair, and flung open the door to admit the feeble old man in. Lionel cringed at the sight of him, his black hair disheveled and his sallow face livid with fury. Giles raised his fist threateningly.

"Speak fool!" he ordered. The old man flinched and staggered into the edge of the desk.

"A message has just arrived from France. King Henry died last night at Chateau Chinon. They bury him at Frontevraud Abbey at week's end." Giles cursed again. He would have to go to the burial. The tension within the royal family was legendary. All knew how Henry favored his youngest son, John, while his wife favored their third child, Richard for the throne. If Queen Eleanor had her way, and Giles had no doubt that with her husband dead the old bat _would_ get her way, Richard would indeed be king. Giles cared nothing over who would rule, but he needed to ensure his continued position as Sheriff of Nottingham and the only way to do that was to make quick friends with the new king.

"Ready my carriage," he growled at Lionel, who still stood cowering on the spot.

"Aye, Sir," he mumbled, shuffling off to do as he was bid. Giles slammed the door behind him. The corridors rang with the thunderclap of sound. With a snarl of outrage, he strode over to his desk and knocked everything onto the carpeted floor. As though there wasn't enough to deal with, now he had to deal with this business in France. He hated to leave the matter of Sherwood unfinished, but it could not be helped. The battle with Robin Hood would have to wait until another day.

"Damn!"


	3. Chapter 3

"King Henry is dead!"

Marian froze with her hands clasped before her and her head bowed in prayer. The moment the words penetrated her brain, her lily-pale skinned turned bone-white. So, it had finally happened; she was free.

"How do you know this?" she said quietly, not wishing to betray the true nature of her feelings. Her maid, Lucy, rushed to her side and seized her arm. Lucy's normally rosy cheeks looked as pale as the linens she had dropped upon her arrival.

"I heard it straight from the Bishop's lips. My Lady, what is to be done?" Marian turned her moss-green eyes away, knowing how easily they could betray the relief blossoming in her heart.

"The marriage will not take place then," she said after a long moment. She kept her tone carefully guarded. "King Henry did not sign the marriage treaty; therefore I am under no obligation to go through with it." Lucy gaped at her.

"But Marian, you could not hope for a better match. Lord Gilbert was a dear friend of your father's and he would treat you well."

"No," said Marian sharply, pulling away. "I won't sell myself to a man older than my father. For as long as I can manage it, I will be my own mistress and no man will lord over me." Lucy sighed and shook her head.

"Your father was wrong to give you so much freedom as a child. Look what it has done to you." Lucy stood up, her hands on her hips. She had been Marian's companion ever since they were children and it was this bond that allowed her to speak to her mistress so, but Marian had entered her eighteenth year and not even Lucy could cosset her these days. Brushing back a flyaway curl with the back of her hand, Lucy sighed. Marian gave a curt nod of her head and got to her feet. In the grate, a small fire crackled throwing, splashes of gold upon her crimson gown as she paced the room. Lucy watched her.

"Should I dye your clothes black?" she asked in a voice brimming with impatience.

"No." Marian continued to pace the room, twisting her long, white hands together as her mind raced. No, she would not dye her clothes black in the style of mourning. Henry was her king, yes, but he was also an obstacle she had barely overcome. "We will travel home as soon as the funeral is over."

"But My Lady, be reasonable. You are much more heavily protected here. Let the steward handle the affairs at home. Times will be turbulent for a while. We should wait until Richard takes things in hand," Lucy quibbled. Marian stopped suddenly, frozen as if time itself had stopped.

"Do you think I cannot defend myself?" she asked, shooting a shaft of green over her shoulder at her maid. Lucy lowered her head.

"No, My Lady, but what need is there to protect yourself when here protection is assured?"

"Lucy, I am every bit as capable as my brother at protecting what is mine. Father was always so proud of his warrior son, yet who was it who looked after the ledgers when she noticed the accounts were not matching up? Michael could barely add yet I allowed father to believe he was keeping the household secure because it would have broken Father's heart to think that his worthless daughter outperformed his 'perfect' son. Who was it who captured that spy last winter and brought him to the Great Hall? Father assumed it was Michael because he never dreamed his helpless daughter could do anything as heroic as protect her castle. I am nearly twice the warrior my brother was and yet here I am forced to sit, pretending to be an empty-headed maiden, and you expect me to wait here and let my father's men rule over the lands that are rightfully mine now that my father and brother both died defending it? I would rather rot that sit here and let those pox-ridden dunderheads lord in my place!" Her voice rose the more she spoke. Lucy backed away from her, her hands raised defensively in front of her as though afraid Marian might strike her.

"I meant no disrespect, My Lady," she said quickly. "I just feel it would be safer to stay here a bit longer. Trouble will not come to 'the Lion.' If we were to venture away from London who knows what evils might befall us once the outlaws and thieves learn of the King's death." Marian clucked disapprovingly behind her small, perfect teeth.

"The Lion is nothing more than a man and as far as I'm concerned, hang them all! It was men who led the rebellion against us so that Michael had to ride out to fight. It was men that decided that women should be seen and not heard, who forced me to become this inconsequential shell forced to sit in the hall all day listening to conceited barons trying to sound more idiotic than the last. I've had enough of it and I'm going home to live out my life ruling my lands as my mother would have me do!"

Lucy flinched as though Marian had slapped her.

"Aye, Milady, I will see to it that arrangements are made for our return home," she said with her eyes on the ground. Marian turned her back as Lucy bowed herself out of the room. Only when her maid was gone did Marian let her true emotions show. Her shoulders sagged and she sank heavily into the wooden chair by the window. A rush of memories washed over her.

She had endured so much in the past year; not even those who knew her best knew all that she had suffered. Her brother Michael had wanted her to become a warrior like him; he took it upon himself to hone her skills which he knew in his heart were better than his own. Their father wanted her to be a respectable lady and he did his best to stamp out the fire for freedom inside her. Michael wanted her always by his side and it was only because he was their father's favorite that it was even permitted that Marian go with him to the training fields. Their father never dreamed that she would ever attempt to actually learn anything there. It started out simply as a way for her to spend time with Michael; everything he taught her she took to heart. As they grew older, Michael was expected to use his training to help defend their holdings. There were many peasant rebellions along the borders and Michael was sent, but one night Marian received word that he and his men could not hold off the peasants without further aid. Her father thought too highly of Michael's skills as a leader to send more men, but Marian knew her brother would only ask if it was necessary. Secretly, she arranged for her and five of her father's men to join her brother. They arrived just as Michael and the others were fighting off a band of well-armed peasants. Not hesitating, Marian ordered her men forward and joined the fray. She was unhorsed almost before she had a chance to fight. Michael immediately came to save her and was pierced through the side by an arrow meant for Marian. She knew at once it was a fatal wound, but she dragged him away from the fighting to try her best to save him. She was a capable nurse and he made it through the night; she thought he might even survive the wound. Then her father arrived.

The moment he saw Michael, Lord William went wild with rage. He turned on Marian as a rabid animal turns on its shadow; Michael tried to intercede but the effort was more than his wound could take. He fainted and never revived. From then on, Lord William confined Marian to her room with her maids and tutors. She took to sneaking out at night and going on rides through the forest. She kept her archery and fighting skills honed as best she could, but it was a sad and lonely lifestyle, made worse by the fact that her father only ever looked at her with disgust. He did not care that she also blamed herself for what happened to Michael.

That winter he died of a fever and Marian was left alone in the world. That was how she had ended up here in London. Her advisors decided that she needed a change of scenery.

Marian sighed. London was the last place she wanted to be. She wanted the solitude of the forests, not the stuffiness of court. She breathed a tiny sigh of relief; she was going home. She rose from the rocking chair and went to stand before the floor-length mirror in the corner. As she gazed upon her reflection, she remembered that Richard the Lionheart, Duke of Anjou, was about to be King. The Lion of England would determine the fate of them all. Even now, her future was not her own.

When Marian donned her mourning clothes to attend the funeral she felt yet another mask descend upon her. Her expression remained doleful and bleak, but it was fear that was her primary concern. She knew Prince Richard by reputation and had encountered him once in person. He was not like his father, Henry; in fact he had led the revolt against him. Richard was a tall, handsome man, built strong from years of fighting. He took after his mother, Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine. Marian had no opinion of the woman, for she was a woman to be both admired and disdained. In her youth, Eleanor had possessed a great and terrible beauty, like ice that freezes any who touch it. She held the world in her fist and despite her great age she remained a strong woman still, but she knew nothing of tenderness. She was the sort of woman Marian wished herself to be.

At the funeral it was a close race as to which woman drew more stares, Marian or the Queen. Both commanded attention by their mere presence, and of all the prominent women in the room, only Marian possessed the same undeniable authority as Eleanor that made her both a woman to be feared and admired. When Marian moved toward Henry's stone effigy to pay her last respects, she came face to face with Queen Eleanor. Something in the older woman's crisp blue eyes seized upon Marian's green ones. They studied each other wordlessly for a long moment. Finally, Marian sank into a deep curtsy and murmured, "I am sorry for your loss, Your Highness. He was a good and just ruler." Eleanor nodded, still staring at Marian.

"He imprisoned me, locked me away from the world, and robbed me of all that I owned, yet after all that I can still say that I loved him. It is strange that I should love him so when at times I felt I hated him more than the devil." Marian could only respond with a sad smile before she moved away.

Marian's knees knocked together like bare branches in a winter breeze; her future was to be decided by the new king. King Richard's coronation had been a lavish event, orchestrated by his mother. No doubt at his mother's insistence, he declared all outlaws accused of poaching in the royal forests pardoned for their crimes. Almost immediately the people decided he was going to be a king just as great as his father had been. Marian was not so easily swayed. He was clever, but that did not make him great.

The heavy doors opened to admit her into the Great Hall. Lucy walked behind her, carrying the train of her gown in trembling hands. Lucy was only fifteen, and if a moment passed in which she wasn't terrified out of her wits then Marian considered it a good day.

"Marian Fitzgerald!" called the announcer.

Her face became carved marble as a forest of faces turned in her direction. She hated this protocol. Keeping her eyes focused on the throne on which the new king sat, she passed through the sea of courtiers. Dropping her gaze to the hem of King Richard's elegant mantle, she sank into her most graceful curtsy.

"Marian Fitzgerald, is it?" asked King Richard, leaning forward to inspect her. "Rise Lady, so we can have a look at you."

Marian gritted her teeth and did as she was told. Richard smiled at her, his blue eyes alert and watchful as they studied her lily-pale cheeks. Though he hid it well, she recognized that carnal look as he appraised her beauty. Since the time she had reached full maturity and transformed into the beauty she had always threatened to become, men had looked upon her thus.

"I hear that the matter of your upcoming marriage has yet to be resolved in light of my father's death, God rest his soul." Marian nodded steeling herself for the fight.

"If it pleases you, Your Majesty, I wish to handle this matter myself," she said in a low, clear voice. Richard's fair eyebrows rose, but his mouth curled into a small smile of amusement. Marian didn't like it. That smile told her that the outcome of this meeting had already been decided and his decision could not be swayed no matter what she said. A rush of disappointed indignation brought color to her otherwise pale cheeks.

"You do not wish to be married, Lady Marian?" asked the King, that irksome smile growing with every syllable. Marian kept her face impassive and bowed her head.

"Nay Milord, I do not. Permit me to return to my home where I will live out the remainder of my days maintaining the lands that my mother's family has governed for seven generations." She held herself tall and proud, her gold-flecked green eyes staring straight into his sky-blue ones. King Richard shifted uncomfortably, though he still seemed to find something mildly amusing.

"If I permitted you to choose your future then I would have to permit every unwilling maid to determine their own course, and the kingdom would be overrun with lonely men. Aside from that, your land holdings are generous and it's unwise not to unite them with another house. Besides, you are one of the fairest maids I have seen since I arrived in England and it's a waste of such beauty to let you live alone and unloved." At these words, several noblemen sitting within earshot began to chuckle and nod among themselves. Marian felt heat rise to her face.

"I understand that, Your Majesty, but may I be permitted to choose a husband for myself?" she said with all the patience she could muster.

"My dear lady," said the King, using a tone one might use to pacify a stubborn child, "I will make an arrangement with you. Very shortly, I will leave England to travel to the Holy Lands, and if you can find a suitable husband before I return, then you have my blessing. If not, then it will be my privilege and honor to find a suitable husband for you myself. Is that not just?" Although Marian was not at all satisfied, she admitted that it was just.

"Aye," she murmured, sinking into another curtsy. "Your Majesty is most gracious. I thank you for your time." With that, she rose, turned on her heel and walked back out of the Great Hall. Her departure was so swift that she jerked the hem of her gown out of Lucy's hands and the girl had to scramble to pick it back up.

"Did his answer please you, Milady?" asked Lucy, panting slightly as she did her best to match Marian's long strides back up to her quarters. Marian said nothing until they had reached the privacy of her quarters.

"No, Lucy. By requesting an audience with the King I wanted to be _relieved_ of the burden of marriage, but he has ensnared me more than I was before. Now I must enslave myself or else he will do it for me."

"At least it is a man of your choosing."

"And what do I have to choose from? All I see are petty lords and desperate peasants."

"What sort of man do you desire?" Marian stiffened. This was just the sort of conversation she expected out of Lucy.

"I want my equal, not my lord."

Just then, there came a knock at the door. Lucy went at once to answer it and when she returned, she carried a letter.

"It's from home, Milady," she said, scurrying over to place it in Marian's hand. Marian felt her stomach clench with foreboding as she unfolded the letter. Any news from home could not be good news. Quickly, she began to read:

My Dearest Lady Marian,

I hope this letter finds you in good health and that you are enjoying your stay in London. As your father's steward it is my duty to inform you that upon hearing of your good father's untimely death, his long-time good friend, Sir Giles of Northwood has graciously invited you to join him at his castle in Nottingham. As Sir Giles was a beloved friend of your father's we have already made arrangements for you to travel there as soon as possible. You will leave London and travel to Nottingham two days hence and will spend the rest of winter at Sir Giles' Nottingham estate. We will be glad to have you back with us again after the summer solstice.

Your most humble servant,

Arthur Pendleton

Marian continued to stare at the letter long after she had finished reading. Judging from the date on the page it had been written the day before which meant that she would be leaving tomorrow. How dare he? Pendleton that great, stupid, oaf! The parchment shook in her hands as her outrage mounted. Arthur Pendleton was her father's worthless steward and no doubt _he_ had arranged this whole thing himself just to ensure that he maintained control of the Fitzgerald estate a few months longer. Giles of Northwood was no good friend of her father's and from what Marian remembered of him he was nothing more than a vile, serpent of a man.

"Milady, is it bad news?" asked Lucy tentatively, watching the paper quivering in Marian's clenched fist. Taking a deep breath, she shook her head.

"No, it's just that we will not be returning home as expected. You had best pack my things, Lucy. We will be leaving on the morrow for Nottingham. I must visit a friend of my father's." Lucy nodded and started to move to pack Marian's things. She hesitated.

"Milady, isn't Nottingham where they are having trouble with outlaws?" she asked tentatively. Marian sent her a swift look that Lucy immediately took as a sign that she should say nothing further. Bobbing her blonde, curly head, she scurried off to ready their things for travel.

She stared blankly through the thick foliage outside her narrow carriage window. The steady rumble of wooden wheels lulled her into a drowsy state. The carriage lurched over the uneven terrain. Outside, Marian heard the sounds of the winter birds calling to each other. The wooden wheels of the carriage snapped twigs and crushed dry leaves. The tiny glimpse of the forest that Marian could see showed her a large expanse of twisted trunks and shrubbery littering the forest floor. With the sun filtering through the thick tangle of branches above, it gave the impression of an ancient place. She shifted in her seat and moved closer to the window so she could breathe in the heady pine scent.

Her hands fumbled on the embroidered chair cover she was working on. Her embroidery skills were somewhat lacking, but it gave her something to occupy herself with on the long ride from London. If she'd had her way, she would have ridden full gallop all the way to Nottingham with her auburn hair streaming behind her like a banner. She wanted to feel free, rather than caged in the cold, cramped carriage with Lucy.

"Milady," said Lucy. "Do you wish to rest?" Marian shook her head.

"There's no need to fuss. I was only daydreaming." Lucy's dropped her gaze to her lap.

Ignoring the stiffness in her neck, Marian sat straighter. Lucy glanced at her again, recognizing the signs that her mistress's rigid posture was designed to hide.

"You went riding again, didn't you?" she asked disapprovingly. Marian suppressed a sigh and turned her gaze on the younger girl with a trace of a challenge in the dark green depths.

"Yes, I rode last night. You know how I hate sitting through those horrid feasts."

"If you insist on dressing up and behaving like a boy, why didn't you practice your archery while you were at it?" Annoyed, Marian set her lips tightly together.

"I would have, had not your brother broken my bow. You know how hard it was for me to acquire that bow. I doubt I'll have any chance to practice now." With a little sniff, Lucy lifted her shoulder in an offended shrug.

"If it mattered so much to you, you should have kept it hidden. You know archery is not for the likes of you." Marian's temper flared, but she was skilled at hiding her anger.

"It was mine and your brother had no right to break it." Lucy knew better than to argue. An uncomfortable silence settled between them until Lucy dropped her gaze to her lap once more and Marian turned back to the window. As acres of trees rolled past, her mind drifted back to the previous night when she had galloped across the countryside on a black stallion. There was nothing that pleased her more than the wind on her face as the hoot owls lamented the night around her. At night she was at one with the moon, who knew painfully well the costs of hiding one's face by day.

"Lady Marian, did you see that?" hissed Lucy, seizing Marian's arm in her small, clammy hands. Jerked from her reverie, Marian once again pushed her annoyance to the back of her mind.

"See what, Lucy?" she asked with forced patience. Lucy was more skittish than a newborn foal and on occasion was known to be frightened of her own shadow. Evening was fast approaching and the shadows were long. No doubt Lucy had seen a deer; they were common in this part of England.

"There was a man," hissed Lucy as her fingers found their way to her chin.

"It probably was," said Marian, unconcerned. "Many travel on foot from London to Nottingham." Beside her, the maid began to tremble.

"But he was watching us." She whispered, as though the stranger had been the devil himself. Marian clicked her tongue.

"I suspect that any traveler on foot would envy two ladies riding in a carriage. Honestly Lucy, you have nothing to worry about."

At that moment, their coachman called a halt and the carriage rolled to an unexpected stop. Lucy gave an involuntary squeak and squeezed Marian's arm tight. Curious, but not yet troubled, Marian glanced out the window. They were deep in the forest and there was still enough daylight to press on. It struck her as odd that the forest seemed so silent. Surely enough carriages passed through that the squirrels and birds would not flee at their passing. Unbidden, a cold prickle worked its way up the back of her neck.

"Coachman, why have we stopped?" she called, licking her lips in the hopes that Lucy would not recognize the signs of her unease. Without waiting for a response, she gathered her skirts in one had and pushed open the door to see outside. Lucy lurched toward her.

"Lady Marian, wait here!" ordered the head guard, Lieutenant Gisborn, as he drew his horse up beside her. Marian scowled at him.

"You are under orders to guard me, Sir, but you do not have the authority to give me orders. Stand aside." Gisborn barred his teeth in a snarl. There was truth in her words and she knew it annoyed him to be told off by a woman. He seized her and jerked her toward him.

"My orders are to keep you safe, Milady, and I cannot protect you if you insist on acting like a spoiled child. Now get back in the carriage. I will deal with this." He released her arm and cantered away, sending dirt and twigs flying up in his wake. Glaring after him, Marian stepped down from the carriage, and strode toward the front of the procession. It was a mark of her forcefulness that no one else dared stand in her way. However, she realized her mistake less than three steps later. Her pace faltered. It was a man that barred their path, just one man, but he was considerably more than a man.

"Good Lord," she murmured. Taking a deep breath, she approached the giant.

"Good evening, fair lady," said the Goliath, nodding his head in her direction. Marian was accustomed to staring down anyone who opposed her, but some of her fierceness was lost in the process of craning her neck to see into the man's face.

"Good yeoman, why you have hindered our progress?" He had a gentle face for all his hugeness. Though it was dark, her sharp eyes detected a hint of a smile.

"Forgive the inconvenience, fair maiden, but it's my humble duty to collect a fare for safe passage through Sherwood." He shifted his massive shoulders and Marian's insides gave a tiny jolt as she saw again the vastness of him. He must have been over seven foot tall.

"Under whose orders do you collect this toll? And," she added on a sudden thought, "what happens if we elect not to pay?" She was pleased to note that he seemed discomfited with the directness of her question.

"I take my orders from Nottingham, Milady, and if any harm befalls you while in Sherwood the Sheriff will do nothing to help you."

"Then what good is he? Is it not his purpose to protect travelers through his domain? Besides, if he did his job there would be no need to barter safe passage through the forest in the first place." The gentle giant gave her no argument and she realized what a fool she was making of herself. Forcibly, she gave him a tight-lipped smile.

"It's my job, Milady. There is nothing I can do about the Sheriff or his ways," he said quietly, glancing behind her to where her stupefied escort looked on with open mouths. Still angry, Marian reached for the change purse dangling from her belt.

"How much would it be for my escort and I to receive the Sheriff's protection?"

The giant's expression cleared and he drew himself up proudly.

"Twenty farthing."

Marian clenched her teeth and chose not to argue further. Silently, she extracted the right amount from her purse and paid the fare. She was about to put away her purse when she hesitated.

"Milady?"

Marian handed him another coin and smiled kindly up into his large, handsome face.

"For my rudeness." He smiled.

"One smile from you is worth a hundred farthings."

"Shall I keep it then?" she asked, holding out her hand. The giant chuckled and slipped the coin into the folds of his tunic front.

"I can only keep your smile in my memory; I'll keep your coin and remember you all the more fondly for the meal it buys me later." Marian granted him another smile for his quick wit. He bowed and moved aside so they could pass. Satisfied, Marian returned to the others. Lieutenant Gisborn was waiting for her, anger seeping out of his pores. Once again he seized her by the wrist as though she were a disobedient child. At once Marian felt a rush of indignation sweep through her veins like fire.

"How dare you disobey me?" he snarled, squeezing her arm with crushing force.

"You would have delayed us all day rather than send a man to speak with him. It was only a toll he wanted."

"That's not the point Marian and you know it!" he shouted.

"Are you angry because I disobeyed you, or is it because the man I spoke with is lesser born and fairer faced?" she replied coolly.

When the others heard her speech they laughed so loudly that several birds took flight. The only two not laughing were Marian and Gisborn. In the midst of the sea of mirth they were an island of cold fury. Whilst the others carried on, Marian yanked her arm free and sent him a look of pure hatred.

"You will address me as Lady Fitzgerald, Sir," she said, not troubling to keep the hostility out of her voice. Any other man would have flinched under the sting of her words, but Gisborn merely brushed them aside with a sneer.

"You lack the grace and honor befitting a lady, _Maid Marian_." Marian felt her blood curdle at the insult and it was all she could do not to strike out at that arrogant, sneering face before her. Turning on her heel, she stormed back to the carriage. The coachman swished his whip and the carriage lurched into motion once more. Still fuming, she positioned herself next to the window.

She sensed it before she saw it. Something green shifted behind a thick oak tree. Startled, but not alarmed, she stared at the spot, remarking that there seemed something oddly out of place, as though she were seeing only half of what was really there. Suddenly, she drew a silent gasp as she saw the pair of dark eyes peering back at her from the foliage.

"GUARDS TO THE TREES!" Gisborn roared. Marian heard several bowstrings hum. An arrow embedded itself in the sill of the window barely a hand's breadth from her face. Outside, Gisborn spun his horse around and bellowed at Edmund, "Coachman, get them out of here!" Before Marian knew what was happening, the carriage rocketed forward, knocking her back. Lucy shrieked as she crashed to the floor. Struggling to stabilize herself, Marian stuck her head out of the window to look behind them. The toll man had drawn a sword and was fighting back the men of her guard like a seasoned warrior. A tree whistled past Marian's ear so that she had to duck back inside to avoid losing her head.

"What's going on?" she shouted, hoping Edmund would hear.

"My lady watch out!" he yelled back. Marian's stomach pitched into her throat as the back wheel of the carriage crashed against a raised tree root. The carriage lurched dangerously to one side and Lucy screamed again, flinging her hands over her head. Holding on for dear life, Marian raised her head just in time to see a man with long greasy tangles of hair leap at the coach, brandishing a wicked-looking dagger. He leapt towards the driver's seat and Edmund gave a cry of pain.

"Lucy, get down!" she screamed helplessly. The carriage thumped back down on all four wheels and suddenly the man's filthy fingers reached through the window to snatch at Marian's long hair. She reeled back, looking around for anything to use as a weapon. Before she could move, his muddy, scabbed hand caught her by the throat.

"Stop the carriage or she dies!" he yelled in Marian's ear as he squeezed the air from her windpipe. Edmund had no choice but to obey. The carriage slowed to a stop and the bandit yanked Marian from the carriage, leering at her. She staggered and fell down the steps, but he dragged her upright again, holding up his viciously sharp blade before her eyes.

"You do just as I say and everything will go easy for you. I wouldn't want anything happening to that pretty neck of yours."

"Marian!" screamed Lucy hysterically with tears streaming down her cheeks. Marian clawed at the man's hands, sinking in her nails and struggling to draw breath, but his grip was too tight.

Suddenly, an arrow appeared out of nowhere, catching her attacker by his tattered sleeve and pinned him to the oak just behind him. Wasting no time, Marian leapt away and scurried back to the carriage, slamming the door behind her.

"Drive Edmund!" Glancing back she saw the man struggling to pull a long black arrow from his sleeve.

"You keep out of this, Hood!" he shouted to someone she could not see. A hooded figure shifted in the shadows, and once again Marian found herself looking into a pair of intense dark eyes. She did not look to see any more. Hugging Lucy with all her might, she squeezed her eyes closed, trying to keep her heart from flying out of her chest. She did not open them even after they had left the forest and slowed to a more moderate pace along the Nottingham town streets. Only when they slowed to a stop did she dare look beyond the window again.

"Thank heavens you're alive," said a deep voice as Edmund opened the carriage door. "Sir Guy just arrived and said he'd lost you. We were about to arrange a search party."

Marian gave her head a little shake to clear the image of the strange, dark eyes that seemed permanently pasted to her inner eyelids. She extended her hand to her host, Giles of Northwood, who accepted it with his own black leather-clad one. With great reverence, he kissed her small, white fingertips.

"I am humiliated this atrocity has happened within my domain," he said, stroking the tips of her fingers. Marian gave him a pointed look as she withdrew her hand from his.

"We had no trouble until we stopped to pay the toll. Do you really expect people to barter for safe passage through your lands?" she asked, her mouth curled up in disdain for the idea. To her surprise, Giles' annoyingly charming face suddenly froze. His right fist gave a convulsive movement.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Milady" he said after an awkward pause. Something in Marian's stomach clenched and the unsettled feeling she had felt ever since she saw the man in the woods began to increase.

"He said that he collected the toll according to your orders." She told him everything else that had happened, about their assailant as they tried to flee to safety.

"How did you stop him?" Giles pressed, his expression mask-like. Marian's head swam with the details of everything that had happened. She swallowed back the rise of hysterical tears as she remembered the feel of the man's hand around her throat.

"An arrow," she murmured. "It pinned him to a tree." Giles frowned at this.

"Did you see the archer who saved you?" he asked with enthusiasm. Marian shook her head slowly. There was no point saying she had because she could offer no clear description other than he wore a hood and carried a longbow, which described nearly every forester in England. Giles sighed.

"Well you are fortunate. He must have been in league with the man who attacked you and merely missed and hit his partner." Marian shook her head again, swallowing back a rush of light-headedness.

"No. I heard the other man call him 'hood,' whatever that means." Giles suddenly went rigid and his compassionate gaze turned sharp as a blade.

"Hood?" he snarled. "Damn him, he's gone too far!" Catching sight of her face he smoothed his features into an apologetic look. "My humblest apologies, Lady Marian, but I require no toll to receive safe passage through Sherwood; that was one of Robin Hood's traps. Sherwood Forest in infested with the wickedest of villains and he is worst of the lot."

"Robin Hood?" Marian felt her anger mounting. "Who is this Robin Hood?"

"He is an outlaw who takes great pride in humiliating any noble lord or lady that happens to cross his path. He is a thieving scoundrel and I am sorry that you had to encounter the likes of him."

"If you are aware of his presence in Sherwood then why can't you capture him?" she asked, still incensed. Giles sighed.

"He is as sly as he is bold, and no matter what my men or I do he remains one step ahead of us, but I will be sure to make him pay for this insult to you." His gallantry was tiresome and Marian decided to stop him before he got too carried away. Stifling a yawn, she shook her head.

"Well, he is a giant of a brute, so take care." Once again, Giles shook his head.

"No, then you did not meet Hood himself. The man that you encountered was his lieutenant, Little John. Hood has nearly four score men at his disposal." Marian took all this in quietly, storing it for later review. She would find this Robin Hood and she would make him pay for the humiliation he had suffered her today; she would make sure of it.


	4. Chapter 4

"I almost wish I could give it back," said Little John with a chuckle when he joined Robin among the oaks. "That was the finest lady I've ever laid eyes on. She had the face of an angel." Robin laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Then you must be the devil to rob her."

"Aye, I am," Little John agreed as he tossed his small bag of gold coins between his hands. The gold inside rattled merrily. Before he had the chance to catch it back in his hand, Robin snatched the pouch out of the air and looked thoughtfully after the carriage.

"I only wish Jackson and his horde had kept out of things. Do you know they'll probably be blaming us for that attack," said Little John indignantly. "As if we would ever draw arms against a lady and her escort. If I ever get my hands on Jackson I'll…"

"Peace John. Sherwood Forest has housed thieves and cutthroats long before you and I came along. All we can do is protect the helpless from their brutality as we would protect them from the Sheriff's."

"First the law and then the lawless. We are yeomen, not bodyguards," grumbled Little John.

"For now, we return home to celebrate this day's good fortune," said Robin loudly, pretending not to have heard. "There is a slab of venison with your name on it, John." With a merry laugh, Robin led the way through the Greenwood. He moved with purpose, though his feet were silent upon the broken leaves; without hesitation he led them back to the Great Oak. Roaring fires greeted them and a loud cheer went up as the men spotted their arrival.

"How goes it, Robin?" called Alan from one of the nearest fires. Robin held up the bag of gold coins.

"The Sheriff's purse is a few coins lighter tonight!" Another loud cheer went up at this and Robin and Little John were ushered toward the largest fire where hand-carved mugs of freshly-brewed beer were pushed into their hands. Laughing, Robin drank his down as smooth as water and as soon as his wine was gone it was immediately refilled to the brim. Much appeared, holding two plates of steaming venison, fresh off the spit. The scent of it reached Robin first and his stomach growled in welcome. He and Little John tore into their meal alongside their brethren. Whenever their mugs or plates were empty more was there to fill its place. Music and laughter echoed around the Great Oak as Alan a Dale sang one of his bawdier tunes. That was the way of things among Robin and his men. They had few luxuries in life, but they had good food and a place to call their own. They were merry and content with their lot. Each man who came to sit at Robin's table had met injustice and adversity in his time, but all those troubles were forgotten in the presence of Robin Hood. The men loved him as though he was their king. Everything he had he gave to them; he fed them and sheltered them and protected them from the law. In return they served him and his cause for restoring justice to the people of Nottingham. Every night was a cause for celebration and each man did his share. That was the way of things in the Greenwood.

Robin quickly forgot about the noble lady Little John had waylaid that November evening. In truth there was no great mystery as to why a noblewoman would come to stay at NottinghamCastle. The Sheriff was known for his extravagance and gluttony. He used the excess money he collected from his serfs to pay for his lavish feasts, and noblemen and women came from all over England to partake in his festivities.

For Robin and his men there were more pressings matters that needed to be dealt with.

"Robin, I'm afraid it's as bad as we thought," said a tall, gangly young man named James, still panting from his run from Nottingham town to the Great Oak. Robin nodded and looked up into the bare branches of the Great Oak, thinking what course of action they should take.

"The Sheriff plans to visit him later this evening to collect the last of his money and if Avery doesn't find something to feed that poor girl with soon, she won't survive the winter." Robin nodded again.

"How much does he owe?"

"Twenty farthings more," replied James. His blue eyes brimmed with concern. Robin's heart went out to him. Avery was James' brother and the only reason Avery had not joined them in the Greenwood was because his daughter, Emma, needed a secure lifestyle. She was seven and not suited for a life as an outlaw. Robin stroked his chin.

"And the Sheriff plans to visit him tonight, does he?"

"Aye," said James miserably. Robin's dark eyes flicked to James' haggard face and when James raised his head, Robin nodded at him with a decisive gleam in his eyes. At once, James' narrow shoulders relaxed, for anyone who knew him knew that when Robin had that look about him, things were about to happen. James bowed low, and quickly turned on his heel to tell his brother that things would be all right.

"What do you plan to do?" asked Little John, who had been standing nearby and knew all about the troubles Avery was having with the Sheriff. Robin was about to tell him his plan when a shout drew his attention.

"Robin!" Much sprinted across the clearing, vaulting over the raised roots of the Great Oak. Robin's eyebrows rose when he saw the excited smile lighting up the boy's face.

"You'll never guess who's just arrived in Nottingham." Much skidded to a stop, his hair plastered to his sweaty face. Robin and Little John exchanged a smug smile.

"Prince John, perhaps," Robin suggested, drumming his fingers on his chin as though he did not already know it was true. Much's face fell and his chest slumped as all the air rushed out of him. Robin flung back his head and laughed his hearty laugh, so that several heads turned in their direction.

"How did you know?" panted Much, crestfallen.

"A little birdie told me," said Robin, pulling Much upright. "The Prince is on his way to dine with the Sheriff, I suspect?" Disappointed, Much nodded. "Just as I thought. Here now, don't look so down. There's naught that happens in Sherwood Forest that I don't know about. What do you have in your hand?" Robin's sharp eyes shifted to Much's right hand which clenched fiercely around the bell of a gold horn. Much handed it over and Robin examined it with interest.

"A fine horn like this must belong to the Prince. How did you come to possess it?" Much puffed out his chest, regaining some of his enthusiasm.

"I robbed it from his very hand," he said proudly. Robin's eyes flicked from the horn to the boy's face and then met briefly with Little John's in surprise. Although Robin and his men were known for their daring, neither would ever have attempted anything like stealing from a member of the royal family.

"That was…brave of you," said Robin slowly. He bit back the words of disapproval that rose up in his throat. It would be wrong to rob Much of his moment of glory.

"And right stupid of you," said Little John, saying what Robin hadn't. Much shrugged, taking the barb as a compliment. Robin stepped in before Little John could hone his sharp words and lifted the magnificent golden horn in his hands.

"This is a fine-looking horn, but how does she sound?" he said loudly, signaling to the other two that it was time to stop arguing. Robin lifted the shining instrument to his lips and blew. Suddenly the great clearing overflowed with the rich, resonant sound of the horn. All of Robin's men were momentarily transfixed by its heart-rending beauty. Blinking in surprise, Robin studied the instrument once more.

"It's a horn fit for a King," he said, his voice low and full of awe. Proudly, he tied the horn to his belt then turned to Much.

"Do you wish to join me as I go to greet his Highness at the Sheriff's feast tonight?"

Much's face brightened at once. Little John stepped back, surprised.

"You're as daft as he is! You can't go into the Sheriff's hall. He'll have your head for sure!" Robin laughed.

"But it won't be _Robin Hood_ going into the Sheriff's hall tonight. Tonight not even the Sheriff, with his keen eyes, could pick me out."

"And what about Much here? You can't take him in there with you. The Prince will recognize him at once. No doubt he has his men scouring the forest in search of him as we speak."

"Then the safest place for him is as far away from the forest as possible. The last place either Prince John or the Sheriff expects to see either of us is in the hall with them, and neither will be looking for us. We will be perfectly safe." Robin finished this declaration with a confident smile. Little John studied his face for signs of hesitancy; upon finding none, he sighed.

"Then I guess I had best go along with you to keep you from getting yourselves into more trouble than you can handle."

Prince John's welcome at Nottingham castle was the stuff of legends. When Robin, Little John, and Much arrived, there was a long walkway lit by a colonnade of torch lamps. Firelight danced up the carved stone walls up to the ramparts, where thin white flags fluttered in an evening breeze. Robin glanced into the sky and saw a full moon rising, lit as if the torches glow illuminated her. Robin discreetly saluted the moon, taking it as a good omen they would encounter no trouble.

"Rob, I stand out like a fox in a henhouse," muttered Little John, watching a pair of noblemen walk past him, the tops of their plumed feathers barely higher than his shoulder. He was dressed in a mismatched tunic and trousers Alice had done her best to alter for him for such occasions, but he hardly looked like a nobleman. As for sticking out, Robin couldn't argue. Even the tallest of the men back at the Great Oak barely reached Little John's shoulder. Still, Robin was not worried.

"Just stick to the wall as I explained and draw as little attention as possible. Dressed as you are, anyone would take you for a servant." His tone was confident, but Little John still looked wary—and with good reason. If they were discovered it was straight to the Tower for all of them. Even the hangman's noose was better than the Tower of London.

"Trust me, John," said Robin in a low voice.

Once they were inside, Little John removed himself to stand along the wall. As predicted, few people noticed him there. Of the few that did, they only cast him wary and incredulous glances, but nothing more. Robin and Much drifted into the center of the room, mingling with the other gentry that had come to greet the prince. From their store of robes they'd robbed from pompous lords, Robin and Much had found clothes that were in decent enough condition to not draw attention. Robin went as a lord and Much as his faithful page.

"Was your home as fine as this?' asked Much, looking around in wide-eyed awe.

"Aye," Robin replied, careful never to look at the boy. He sighed. Tonight was not a night for remembering. Temptation suffocated him with Giles nearby and unaware of his presence; Robin was painfully aware of his hunting knife at his side.

"We must pretend we belong here," he whispered, maneuvering his way through the crowd, stopping at random to greet noblemen as though he had known them all his life. In truth, he had encountered some of them when he had visited London with his Uncle Gamwell, he could see that none of them truly remembered him. They returned his greetings with false smiles and likewise acted as though they had known him for ages. Robin, despite his inclination to remain inconspicuous, could not fight his naturally engaging personality. Even these pompous lords seemed drawn to his side after only a few minutes of his presence. When he left them, they called after him to rejoin them after he finished making his rounds.

"Sir Geoffrey, what a pleasure old friend!" said Robin cordially, embracing an elderly gentleman with drooping brown eyes and a goblet of ale in his hand. Sir Geoffrey spluttered as ale spilt down the front of his fur mantle.

"I believe I have never met you before, stranger," he slurred grumpily, dabbing at his mantle.

"Why of course we have," Robin insisted, flashing one of his twinkling smiles. "We went on that hunt at Lord Huntington's castle a decade ago. It was there that we first made our general acquaintance with Giles."

"What are you doing?" hissed Much. Robin made a silencing gesture with his hand. This was more important than Much realized; Robin might never get this opportunity again. Sir Geoffrey, who had already had more than enough ale to fog his memory, accepted Robin's story at face value.

"That was a sorry affair that was," he slurred. "Left that poor lad without a father… Lord Huntington was a fine man." Sir Geoffrey took a deep swig in salute. Robin nodded.

"What of the boy and his mother though? I have heard no news of them in years."

"Dead, both of them."

Robin felt as though Little John had just walloped him with a quarterstaff.

"The mother too then?" he said slowly, regaining his conversational attitude. "I had heard she remarried." Sir Geoffrey, his face half-buried in his goblet, nodded once more.

"Aye, Giles married her out of decency to keep the vultures from trying to steal her husband's lands. Besides, the boy needed a father and Giles was as good a candidate as any." Robin clenched his jaw and bit back a remark. Giles had sent him away a week after the marriage.

"Then what happened to Lady Charity?" he pressed.

"She was spoiled, according to Giles—a bit cracked in the head. She kept trying to run off. Forced to keep her locked up in the dungeons, he was. She finally died of a fever. Shame that. She was a lovely one; killed Giles to lock her up."

"_I'll bet it did_," muttered Robin under his breath. "Well, I shan't take up your entire evening. Good day Sir Geoffrey." He started to go.

"Here, what was your name again? I'm vaguely beginning to recall your face." But Robin melted into the crowd as easily as a shadow slips into the night.

"Robin?" said Much quietly.

"Best not to speak of that," Robin said with the heartiest smile he could summon. Much nodded hesitantly, but Robin put a hand on his shoulder. "Go see what food you can find for yourself." After another uncertain nod, Much left him. Alone, Robin gazed around him at all the smiling faces. How lucky they were to be untroubled. They knew nothing of Giles' villainy and they were content in their ignorance. Perhaps if he could be so lucky as to not know the true nature of Giles' heart he might also be content. But no; he knew that the deaths of his mother, father, aunt, uncle and cousin were all upon the man's conscience.

"Excuse me, sir," said someone at his elbow, trying to edge around him. Robin looked up sharply and found himself staring into the face of the Lady Marian. Quickly he nodded and moved to let her to pass, but after she had gone by, he stared after her. She went to greet Sir Geoffrey and his daughter, smiling a warm and knowing smile as she took note of his inebriation. She wore a gown of creamy white that complimented her fair complexion and dark, red hair. After one last, appraising glance, Robin moved away. He needed to find Giles among all these preening, puffed up courtiers.

"Robin!" hissed Little John, making his way around the edge of the room to reach his side. "Did you see, Rob? She's 'ere!" Robin didn't bother to ask who Little John was referring to.

"Aye, I saw her," he said with a casual shrug, glancing at Lady Marian still standing beside Sir Geoffrey.

"Ah, but she's a fine lady," sighed Little John reverently. "If I were an honest man, I would have her for my wife." Robin chuckled and craned his neck to look up at his friend.

"You have high aims if you think a lady of her caliber would marry you."

"Why, do you think she would rather have a prancing ninny like yourself? Call her over and see who she prefers," challenged Little John, gazing at Marian like a lovesick boy. Robin shook his head, grinning at the giant's face. It wasn't until Little John straightened up and called her name that Robin realized he was serious. His smile faltered.

"Let's see how well she likes the likes of you," said Little John, moving away as Lady Marian frowned in their direction and started toward them. Robin swore under his breath and tried turned away from her, but she reached out and touched his arm when she drew up behind him.

"Did you call me, Sir?" she asked. Robin kept his back to her, trying to look at the far wall so that she could not see his face. He would kill John for drawing attention to him and possibly giving away his description to someone who might later be able to identify him.

"No, Lady, 'twas my friend who called you," he said over his shoulder. Even the slight turn of his head that allowed him to address her was too much. With his peripheral vision, he saw her expression change and she jerked her hand back as if she had been burnt. He spun around and caught her hands, dragging her to a small alcove away from listening ears.

"You!" she said coldly, twisting out of his grip. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you," said Robin with equal coolness.

"Lord Giles invited me to spend the winter here before my return home in the spring, not that it's any business of yours."

"Marian-" he began with forced patience.

"_Lady_ Marian," she corrected icily. Robin drew an impatient breath and corrected his address.

"_Lady_ Marian, I would very much appreciate it if you would not draw attention to me."

"You still have not told me why you're here."

"As you say, 'it's none of your business.' Please Milady, I would rather not be recognized." Her mossy-green eyes narrowed with suspicion. Robin held her gaze, praying she would respect his wishes. He knew it would require much compassion on her part, which was something she had lacked the last time their paths had crossed. Pursing her lips, she looked away from him to the rest of the hall, scanning the faces there in search of someone.

"Why do I feel that you should not be here?" she asked quietly, flicking him a sharp glance. Robin had forgotten how clever she was.

"That is probably just your wishful thinking."

"And if I were to summon Lord Giles? There he is right now. What would he have to say of your behavior? Such secrecy hardly befits the son of the Prince's host."

"_Step_son," said Robin, mimicking the correction she had given him moments before. She lifted her brow haughtily. Robin watched her, knowing that he could trust her as far as he could throw her. He decided to change tact. His grim expression suddenly changed to roguish charm.

"Come now, Marian, be reasonable. If you are still upset because your father refused to sanction a marriage between us, know that I don't hold it against you. Truthfully, we both lost a fine opportunity, but I would think you'd have moved on after all these years." He ended his taunt with a sly smile.

"Oh, hang you, Robert! He only suggested the marriage as a punishment in the first place because he knows how fond I am of arrogant fools. For that idiotic speech, I _shall_ summon your father!"

"No!"

As she turned to call for Giles, Robin caught her around the waist and hastily silenced her by covering her mouth with his. As expected, she struggled violently against him, but Robin, the stronger, decided to press his luck. Only when her ruby ring encrusted fist sank into his unprepared abdomen did he release her. At the sound of his harsh cough, several heads turned in their direction, including Giles of Northwood's. Doubled over clutching his stomach, Robin glared up at Marian.

"You'll regret doing that."

"Lady Marian is there a problem?" asked Giles loudly, turning more attention to where Robin and Marian stood in the alcove. She smiled and shook her head.

"It seems your s-" Robin viciously shook his head, faking a loud cough to get her attention. Marian hesitated, holding his desperate look. Closing her eyes with a grimace, she continued, "It seems your _guest_ has choked on his ale. Forgive the interruption." For emphasis she slapped Robin hard on the back. It stung. Giles nodded and resumed his conversation with the buxom woman he had been talking to before. Soon, everyone else followed suit.

"Thank you," Robin whispered. Not looking at him, Marian nodded.

"I am not the mean-spirited girl I once was."

"No, you are the same, only now you are a woman." He stood up. Ignoring the insulted and disgusted look on her face, he looked around for Little John and jerked his head in the direction of the door. Little John nodded and continued the action with Much. Robin bowed low in a show of respect for Lady Marian, though he hardly thought she deserved it. She turned away disgustedly.

"Farewell," he murmured, "_Maid_ Marian." She whirled around.

"Where did you hear that name?" she demanded in a harsh whisper. Robin smirked with a shrug.

"I heard it from the toll man in the forest. It's not often he comes across a traveler so willing to part with her money." He left her gaping after him like a landed fish. It served her right to know her folly was well-known throughout the Greenwood. Meeting up with Much and Little John on the other side of the hall, the three of them presently made their departure.

"Why did you not tell me you knew her?" demanded Little John as they made their way back to Sherwood.

"That is not a story for now," said Robin, glancing uneasily over his shoulder. He had been too careless with his identity. If Lady Marian had recognized him at only a glance then anyone else who might have known him before his exile might also have seen and recognized him.

"Go on without me," he said abruptly. "I have other business to attend to."

"Does it have anything to do with what you asked Sir Geoffrey?" asked Much.

"Speak not of that again! That is my business." His words were unusually sharp. Much shrank back, humbled.

"Aye, Robin."

Little John looked between them. "What's this about?"

"Don't ask; it's nothing to do with you." Robin turned and strode off into the night.

In truth, Sir Geoffrey's news did weigh heavily on his mind. He remembered now how his mother had fought against the marriage to Giles. From the beginning she never liked him, but she had no power to stand in his way. After the marriage, Robin went to live with his Uncle Gamwell and Aunt Cecily. From then on he slowly watched his mother waste away. She fought Giles; it was evident from the faint bruises that often circled her thin wrists. Robin was thirteen the last time he saw her and he was fifteen when he stopped hearing news of her. No doubt that was when she died. It was just like Giles not to tell him.

With a heavy heart, he made his way into Sherwood Forest. His attention was drawn inward to his memories of his mother in the few years before Giles ruined it all. He sank onto his knees in a pool of moonlight. The cold November wind made him shiver as it passed through his cloak. Quietly, he said a prayer for Lady Charity, hoping she had found her way back to her true husband in Heaven. So absorbed was Robin in his prayers that he almost missed the tell-tale crack of a twig. At once, his senses became sharp as the edge of a blade.

The forest was inside him now. He knew where each bird made its roost, knew the den of every deer. And he knew someone was there who didn't belong.

"You are a long way from Nottingham, Sir," he said loudly, not troubling to turn around.

"You have taken something of mine," said an oddly-pitched voice—a lad whose voice had not broken trying to appear older than he was. "Your men robbed me and I will take my payment from your hide."

"Go home, son. There are few who have the skill to back up such pretty words."

A sword hissed as it slid free of its sheath. Robin's already over-sharpened senses stretched to their farthest reach. The only weapon he had at hand was his hunting knife as he had not seen fit to take his bow with him to the feast. In a flash, the stranger was upon him. Robin turned and met him head on. In the dark it looked to be nothing but a reedy boy with a knight's helmet on his head. For a lad he handled the sword expertly well. With a stinging rush of pain, Robin felt the sword slice across his forearm. In retaliation he struck back and was satisfied to feel his knife cut through cloth and flesh. As the boy recoiled, Robin knocked the sword from his hand. That did not stop his assailant though. With a snarl, he dived at Robin, knocking him clean off his feet. They landed in a tangle of limbs, and Robin grunted as the boy's helmet struck his chin.

Were it a simple task of skill versus skill, Robin realized he might not have won, but Robin was slightly the stronger of the two. He managed to get to his feet, and with a rush of energy, swung the boy around and slammed him against a tree. The impact had crushing force and to Robin's surprise, the boy let out a high-pitched grunt, much too high for a boy of his apparent age to make. Before Robin could fully comprehend this, the boy shoved him back and he staggered and fell against a young sapling, cracking his head on the hard roots. The boy seized Robin's fallen knife and stood over him, triumphant.

"So much for the ever-elusive Robin Hood," said an uneasily familiar voice, "trapped by a woman." Before she could move, Robin hooked his foot around her ankle and jerked her to the ground. In seconds, he had her pinned on her back with both hands secured safely above her head. With his free hand, Robin removed the helmet and gave a disbelieving chuckle.

"'Twas well fought, but it's unwise to boast until the final outcome, Lady Marian." She glared at him. "I am going to release you. If you wish to continue then know that your identity will be no protection for you—not that you need an advantage." He gave her that respect with no reserves. "However, if you would prefer to return to your disguise as a gentle maid, then I will be gallantry itself and you will never have known a gentleman more respectful than I." Marian's pale face was flushed; her green eyes glittered dangerously up at him. Slowly, she relaxed in submission; slowly, Robin released her and graciously extended his hand to help her to her feet. She didn't trust him—there was no doubt about that—but she accepted his hand.

For a moment, they were silent. Robin studied her with renewed interest. Marian sent him a scathing look then turned away.

"You are a skilled swordswoman," he said at last, breaking the tense silence. Her head came up sharply as though he were mocking her. Upon seeing that he was serious, she stilled and gave a stiff nod of appreciation.

"You seem as though you are a decent man," she said quietly. "How can you condone the thievery of harmless travelers through your woods?" Robin chuckled slightly and began to circle her, taking in her full measure. She was surprisingly strong for one so lean, and having seen her dressed as a lady he would never have guessed what a savage damsel lay beneath. She bristled under his scrutiny.

"Aye, there is much thievery taking place, but the majority of it is not on the roads through Sherwood. The Sheriff of Nottingham taxes the heart and soul out of the people, often taking twice of what is his due and uses it to pay for feasts such as the one we just attended."

"What do you mean by that?" she asked spinning to always keep him within her sight. "The taxes that Lord Giles collects go to help fund King Richard's crusade."

"That may be what the tax is for, but that is not what it buys. Believe me Lady Marian, my men and I have watched much gold enter this forest in the direction of Nottingham, but never have we seen it leave again. Giles has not given a cent to fund Richard's campaign." He cast his eyes upon the harvest moon, marking the time. "I know I cannot change your mind by my words, and I will not insult either of us by making the attempt, but if you can find it in your cold heart to come with me now, then let my actions speak for my character. If not, then the road to the castle lies behind you. As a gentleman I would take you back, but I have a pressing engagement I cannot overlook." He turned to go.

"Some 'business' calls you?" The accusation hung in the air, and Robin paused, stung.

"You always were quick to judge," he said quietly. "You have my permission to come." With that, he strode away, though he moved without his usual stealth so that she could follow him if she chose. Marian would follow him; it was not in her to go. A strange breed was she that could wield a sword with the strength of a man and speak from a soul innocent as the blossoms in spring. There were few women in Robin's memory that commanded attention so, yet desired none of what they received. He glanced over his shoulder where she stood bathed in the silver light of a moonbeam, her dark hair framing the lily-white face. She wore a mask as effective as his own. When she caught him looking, Marian took a steadying breath and made to catch up with him. To his surprise, she knew something about stealth as well.

Robin had to move quickly. There was not much time and he was already late.

"Where are we going?" she asked quietly. She was merely curious, not frightened.

"The Robin Hood you have heard of is the nobleman's version: a petty thief who has conned his way into the hearts of the peasants and plans to stir up trouble for Prince John and the Sheriff. You have said I should be hanged for my crimes and that I am barbaric—there is no need to apologize," he added, catching sight of her face over his shoulder. "I have heard much worse."

"Is it not true though?" asked Marian directly. "The boy I knew all those years ago was all those things. Why should not the man before me be the same?"

"Oh yes. It's all very much true. But the difference is in the way the peasants and nobles view me. I am not here stirring up trouble merely because I enjoy chaos. I am righting a wrong that no one else has been willing to confront." She clicked her tongue impatiently.

"There is no need to sound so noble. What you are doing is wrong. There are ways to fight injustice that are within the law." He glanced over his shoulder with a mocking grin.

"Aye, but where is the fun in that?"

Avery's house was not far off and he soon caught sight of the smoke from Avery's hearth fire. Robin stilled.

"Take care not to be seen; your good name is at great risk this night."

Marian gave no answer, but he knew she heard and would obey. He could spare no more thoughts for her and in an instant he shrouded himself in the gauze of night. Like a specter he crept toward the house, a thief, but a gallant one. The front door stood ajar and cautiously Robin flattened himself against the front wall edging as close as he dared to listen.

"You have not fulfilled our agreement, Avery," snarled Giles. "I extended your payment until last week and you still have not managed to raise enough money to cover your debts. I want my money!"

"F-forgive me Sire," stammered the man, Avery. "M-m-my daughter was sick and what with the famine it has been all I could do to keep food on the table. Please, just a week more and you have my word that I will have enough." Giles struck him hard in the mouth and Avery staggered. From the bedroom, a tiny voice shrieked. Robin clenched his fist, praying for patience. His palms grew hot around the grip of his knife.

There was a loud scuffling noise, a thud of flesh on wood and a loud whimper. "I am the law here, Avery! My word is the only word that matters. Do you think if I chose to kill you right now anyone would raise a hand to stop me? Either you produce twenty silver pieces this instant or else I will cut out your weak Saxon heart right here!" Robin peered around the doorframe as Giles withdrew his hunting knife from its sheath at his belt. It was a murderous-looking weapon. Like everything else he owned, it was black and silver, a craftsman's masterpiece. The moment he saw it, Avery went mad with fear.

"P-p-please!" stammered Avery.

Robin rapped on the door with his knuckles, stalling for time. The movement inside the room stilled.

"Were you expecting company?" snarled the Sheriff. Avery shook his head, apparently too terrified to speak. "Who is it?" the Sheriff barked.

"Surely no name is required from an old friend who is passing through," said Robin with the cheeriest voice he could muster. He knew an amiable response would put Giles off guard.

"You are not welcome here!" shouted the Sheriff. Robin stood up and flung open the door, his hunting knife poised and deadly. His dark eyes flashed black with fury.

"I believe, Good Sheriff, that I am far more welcome than you this evening," said Robin calmly, stepping across the threshold into the tiny cabin. He went at once to Avery and helped him to his feet. "What is _your_ business tonight?" Robin asked, eyeing him closely, yet maintaining his pretense of politeness.

"This man is a tax dodger and it is my obligation to have him punished for his crimes," said Giles, forcibly restraining himself. Robin glanced between Giles and Avery.

"Is it also your obligation to beat the poor man senseless?"

"That is nothing compared to what I will do with you, Robin Hood!" spat the Sheriff, edging towards him. Robin threw back his head and laughed.

"If you think you can capture me alone then by all means make the attempt. Know this, I only have to signal once with this golden horn and thirty of my men will be here in an instant to aid me. Clever as you are at doing your dirty work in secret, it has worked to your disadvantage. Five of my men are outside waiting and we could bodily removed you from this house, but I will spare you the humiliation."

"How noble of you," snarled Giles, his black eyes blazing. Robin took a small leather pouch from his belt and flung it across the room to land at the Sheriff's feet.

"Twenty silver pieces. That is to cover Avery's debts and here is another ten to cover the interest that you have greedily heaped upon him. Now, get out. This man's daughter is asleep in the next room; it is rude of you to wake her." Giles stood frozen in place, squinting hard at Robin.

"I know your face," he said slowly. "We have met before."

"And are likely to again," said Robin, directly evasive.

"Who are you?"

"It's Robin Hood, Sheriff. Don't you know Robin Hood?" Avery's daughter Emma had risen from her bed to see what all the yelling was about. She stared at Robin as though he were a fairy that had materialized before her eyes.

"Shut up, girl, I know who he is! Robin Hood I could kill you here and now for what you did to Prince John today. Aye, I know 'twas not you, but 'twas by your orders. You are a villainous knave and I am of a mind to run you through right now."

"You will not kill me here, 'Sheriff,' nor I you. I suggest you leave safely now or I will send you home in ribbons. There will be other days for our battle. You have what you came for and more, now let these good people be." Robin's voice was harsh and flat, echoing Giles' from moments before. Robin showed no outward signs of his disposition towards the Sheriff. He merely stared, waiting for him to leave the cottage. Finally, Giles began moving towards the door.

"We will meet again, Robin Hood," he spat, going toward the door after scooping up his coins. Robin nodded coldly.

Still glaring, the Sheriff left the house. Robin didn't relax until he heard the Sheriff's horse gallop away. His shoulders sagged as the tension eased out of him. That was the first time since Giles had sent him into exile that Robin had met him face to face without disguise.

The moment the Sheriff was gone, Avery fell to his knees at Robin's feet. "Bless you, Robin!" Robin came back to himself, smiled and pulled the man to his feet.

"Here, this is for you," he said quietly and pushed another small pouch of coins into Avery's hand. "Take care of young Emma's cold. If you need anything else, just send word to Sherwood and I'll get your message."

"Oh bless you, Robin Hood!" cried Emma, clapping her hands together in delight. Moments later, she dissolved into such a fit of coughing that Avery anxiously ushered her back to her room. While Avery tended to his daughter, Robin went outside. He expected to find Marian waiting for him. In fact, he wanted the privilege of pointing out just how wrong she had been about him, but she was nowhere to be seen. He knew from the stillness of the night that she was gone. How much had she seen, he wondered, and had what she seen been enough to change her mind? Not that he cared, of course. They knew each other from long ago and neither had high opinions of the other. He thought she was every bit as arrogant as she thought him insolent. He directed his steps toward the Greenwood. What did her opinion matter?

Robin decided to tell no one of his clandestine meeting with Marian in the grove. She had played the part of a gentle lady too well to convince anyone that she was a seasoned warrior. Besides, even if he told them about his encounter with her, he could not for his honor's sake tell them how closely she came to beating him. However, Robin was curious as to what she had done after slipping away that night. Had she met up with Giles and told him all that she knew? He wouldn't put it past her. The Marian he had known long ago might have done such a thing just to get him in trouble. Or had she gained enough respect for him that she decided not to betray him? That too could be a possibility since she had displayed an unusual compassion by not revealing him in the hall. She always did like to vex him simply because she could. So consumed was Robin by these thoughts that even the other men began to notice when he returned that night.

"What's up, Robin?" asked Alan a Dale as he lazily strummed his lyre beneath the branch which Robin was using as a perch. Robin looked down, measuring him a moment. They were not so different in age, he and Alan, and as one of the earliest members of the band, Robin trusted him.

"There's a woman…" Robin began, unsure of how to present his dilemma.

"Ah, say no more my friend," said Alan with a twinkle in his eye. Robin shook his head fervently.

"No, it's nothing of that sort. This woman knows more than she aught about us and I know not where her loyalties stand." The twinkle vanished from Alan's eye. For an outlaw, to question the loyalty of someone who knew your enemy was a terrifying thing. His fingers ceased their strumming as his brow creased.

"If it is that important to you to know, then why not test the maid? Reveal yourself to her when the Sheriff is near—provided you can still make an escape–and see whether she protects you or not." It was a solid plan, but the flaw of it lay in what to do if Marian proved false.

"It's a sound idea, but you do not know this maid. She may not reveal me today only to have me hang tomorrow. And believe me, she has her fair share of reasons to want my head."

"Such as?" prodded Alan gently, his smile returning.

"When we were younger she was every bit the shrew that she is now and I spread a rumor that she secretly practiced witchcraft. She had to spend a month in church praying for deliverance and was forbidden to come outside and play. I'm sure there was at least one sound spanking involved as well." Alan's eyebrows rose, but he laughed, which made Robin feel a little guilty about the prank. "After a month I finally confessed that I had made it up—if you could have seen my uncle's face... I still bear the marks from that one."

"I see, and no doubt since then this lady bears an ill will against you?" Robin smiled ruefully.

"Aye. She hated me after that. How was I to know that the friar would make it his personal mission to save her soul? No doubt she _took up_ witchcraft just to curse me for what I did." Alan laughed again.

"You must like her then," he said after a long pause. Robin shook his head again, this time with more seriousness.

"No, I heartily _dis_like her. She looked down upon me because my father was a Saxon. I'll not forgive her easily for the things she used to say." Alan nodded, casting Robin a sideways look. When Robin questioned the meaning of it, he shook his head, saying nothing.


	5. Chapter 5

"Good heavens, Lady Marian! What happened to your arm? There's blood everywhere! Someone get help!" Faster than blinking, Marian slapped her hand across her maid's mouth, silencing her with a dangerous glare. Eyes enormous with apology, Lucy nodded. Marian released her and stepped back, flinging the crumpled mass of her evening gown onto the floor. Bits of straw clung to it from having spent several hours buried beneath the hay in the stables.

"My lady," whispered Lucy, moving tentatively toward Marian. Her long, white nightgown whispered over the stone floor. "Please tell me what happened to you. Are you hurt at all?"

"I'm all right," Marian snapped, glancing at her right arm where there was a long gash in her sleeve and the cloth there stood stiff with blood. She recalled Robin's knife with a grimace. The wound had not hurt at the time and she'd given it no thought since. "Come Lucy, help me bandage it." She pulled the long coarse tunic over her head so that she could better assess the damage, and wrapped herself in her now soiled and dirty cloak. The wound appeared relatively shallow, though already her limb felt sore. Blood still seeped freely from her severed flesh and Lucy held back, looking pale. Marian raised her head to stare at her.

"Shall I have to bleed to death before you find it necessary to help me? Quick, tear some cloths from that shirt to make bandages to stop the bleeding. If the sight of blood offends you I can do it myself."

"No Milady, I can do it, but please tell me how you came to be injured."

"It was that damned Robin Hood!" Marian exploded, her frustration bursting forth. Her pale cheeks flushed with fury and traces of embarrassment. "I thought I could capture him myself and bring him before Lord Giles on my own, but I underestimated him. 'Twas lucky I only ended up with this." She indicated the cut on her arm with a disgruntled jut of her chin. Lucy knelt beside her, ripping strips from the discarded tunic and wrapping them securely around Marian's upper arm.

"You've met Robin Hood? Oh my lady, you are lucky to be alive if you have tangled with him!"

"He is not as dangerous as that," Marian corrected quickly. "It was my own fault he overtook me. I should have known better than to challenge him in his element. Everyone knows his forestry skills are unparalleled. He probably knew I followed him the moment I left the castle." Self-disgust caused her voice to shake. She clenched her hands so tightly that Lucy ordered her to relax for fear of increasing the blood.

"He is a villainous knave to fight a lady," Lucy said darkly, tying off the last of the bandages. Marian shook her head with impatience.

"No, the moment he knew me for who I was he offered a truce." She told Lucy of Robin Hood's offer to continue fighting if she chose, or to cease and address each other as a proper lord and lady. Lucy's disapproval lessened at that.

"He is still a dog," she said loyally, though Marian sensed growing admiration in her servant's voice. Marian averted her face, unable to lower herself to the point of admitting how wrong they had all be about him.

"There is honor behind his dishonesty. I saw it tonight. He has a purpose, and he acts out of compassion rather than greed. The man of the stories is not the man I met tonight. I would rather he were so I could despise him, yet I cannot despise him quite so much after what I have seen. His methods are unlawful and cowardly at times, but to those that he fights for, he is a hero. We, who think the public admire and adore us, are merely feared and distrusted. He has their love and their loyalty. The only reason the peasants have not risen up against us is because he does not wish them to. Though he breaks the law himself, he respects the need for the order it brings." Marian groaned and stood up from the chair pacing the room.

"What is he like?" asked Lucy softly. Marian stood with her back to her, unable to meet her eye. To speak well of Robert of Huntington left a foul taste in her mouth, but there was no denying he was not the loathsome boy she had known long ago. She began pacing faster, wringing her hands in frustration that there was something that did not correspond with her understanding of the world.

"I do not know how to describe him. He is insolent and bold beyond reason; he acts like an overgrown boy, yet there is something in him that recalls the chivalrous knights of tales. Whatever you expect of him is the last thing you will receive. I thought he was just a common thief, but it turns out he is a nobleman fighting for peasant's rights. It is not the law that he fights, but corruption of the laws. I do not understand him at all, though some part of me wishes that I could." There was some word just out of reach and its elusiveness galled her. She paused her pacing to think. Lucy took advantage of her silence.

"What is his purpose in Nottingham?"

"He fights corruption." Marian glanced over her shoulder. "And sadly, he has every reason to be here."

A knock came at the door, making both women jump. Marian dashed to her bed and seized the nightgown Lucy had laid out for her. Not troubling to remove her trousers, she pulled the nightgown over her head and nodded at Lucy to answer the door. While Lucy moved with deliberate slowness, Marian jumped into bed and pulled the covers up over her legs.

"Who is it?" called Lucy after a nod from Marian.

"Forgive the intrusion, Marian; it's Avian, Lord Geoffrey's daughter. It seems the clodpolls that tend to my room think everyone sleeps with the pigs as they do because it reeks of filth, and I fear I will catch the plague if I stay there. Would you please let me stay with you until it has been properly seen to?" Lucy glanced back at Marian, who hurriedly skimmed out of the trousers and flung them into the farthest corner of her room.

"Come in, Avian," she called, seizing her gilded comb lying on her bedside table to smooth her hair. Lucy grimaced as she pulled open the door. Standing on the threshold stood a short young woman with small brown eyes and tight brown curls. Lucy stepped back immediately to let her pass. Avian glared at her before fixing her face into a smile and stepping into the room.

"Marian, it's so good to see you again. I had hoped to greet you earlier at the feast but you disappeared somewhere. Who was that man you were speaking with in the alcove? He was handsome." Marian simply stared at her. Avian was one of the girls she had grown up with as their fathers visited the various courts of England. The two girls were as different as ice and fire. While Marian valiantly tried to fend off every suitor who looked her way, Avian went after any male within a ten-mile radius. Marian cared little for her, but she could tolerate her presence if she needed to.

"He was no one, just an old friend of my father's sharing his regrets." Avian bowed her head.

"Yes, I was sorry to hear about his death. That must have been hard on you after what happened to Michael." Marian nodded distantly, the muscles in her abdomen clenching against the onslaught of unexpected emotions. Avian bit her lip then forced a smile.

"I was just about to go to sleep when you knocked," said Marian quietly, struggling to sound at ease and not fully succeeding.

"Oh, then forgive me. I won't disturb you," Avian said quickly, moving to the other side of the bed in her slippered feet. Marian glanced at Lucy, who remained at the door. There was nowhere for her to sleep now. With an apologetic look, Marian gestured toward the fireplace where a bearskin rug had been laid out. She held out a blanket for the maid and offered her a pillow, but Lucy refused. Once Avian had rolled onto her side with her back facing them, Lucy glared at her and went to her new place by the fire.

"Oh Marian, I had almost forgotten. Tomorrow I planned to go to Mansfield. Would you care to go with me?" Avian asked, rolling over with an eager smile on her face. Marian forced a grateful smile. Mansfield. The only road that led to Mansfield wound straight through Sherwood Forest. After her encounter tonight the last thing she wanted was another meeting with Robin Hood. However, she had no plausible excuse for not going, and there was no cause to think that Robin Hood would waylay them.

"Of course I'll go with you."

Avian beamed and turned back away. Within minutes she lay gently snoring. Marian could not fall asleep so quickly. An unsettling feeling had lodged itself in her stomach. What if she did chance to meet Robin Hood tomorrow? What would she say? Worse still, what would _he_ say?

Avian was already gone when Marian woke the next morning. The first thing Marian was aware of as she slowly returned to consciousness was a painful stiffness in her right arm. With a grimace she glanced at the bandaging and saw that it had bled through even her nightgown.

"Lady Marian, you had best get ready. Lady Avian made it clear that she wishes to be off soon," said Lucy quietly from her bedside. Marian nodded and slowly pushed herself up from the bed. The bruise on her shoulder stung viciously and it was all she could do to pretend otherwise. With slow and deliberate care, Marian dressed in a scarlet gown and a thick fur mantle. She went to find Avian. When she found her, Avian was deeply engrossed in an avid conversation with a serving girl. Marian frowned. From her experiences, Avian did not normally associate with servants.

"Is something wrong?" she asked once the serving girl departed, carrying a basket of dirty linens. Avian smiled brightly.

"Oh no, she was just telling me the latest story about Robin Hood. Have you heard of him?"

"Aye," said Marian darkly. "His man robbed me the very day I arrived." Avian's dark eyes lit with excitement.

"Oh, you must tell me the story on the way to Mansfield. I should very much like to hear what happened." Avian gently took Marian by the arm and pulled her along, demanding to hear how Robin had waylaid her on the road. Marian's stomach felt uneasy. If this was any indication of what the rest of the day would be like she wanted to stay at the castle. The last thing she wanted to think about as she rode toward Sherwood Forest with its leafless trees concealing deadly marksmen was Robin Hood. Despite her reluctance, Avian pried the story from her, encouraging her to describe every moment in detail.

"Isn't he wonderful?" Avian sighed, leaning her head back against the backboard of the carriage once Marian had recalled everything she could remember. At this, Marian arched an eyebrow.

"I can't say I idolize the man who tricked me out of twenty farthings," she said stubbornly. Avian smiled and closed her eyes. The sunlight shone through the window on her other side, framing her in a golden light as she gently rocked back and forth to the sway of the carriage.

"He's a hero; all the peasants think so. I've asked everyone I can find if they know anything about him and from what I've heard he sounds spectacular. He's the finest archer in England you know; he can hit an acorn still hanging from the tree. He selflessly defends the poor from oppression and corrupt law officials, and I hear he's the handsomest man in Nottingham." Marian snorted.

"Avian, the corrupt law officials he fights against are men like Giles of Northwood and _your father_. As for his skill at archery, no man is good enough to hit an acorn still hanging from a tree. Do you have any idea how difficult a shot that is? Honestly, _he_ must be the one spreading all these rumors because surely no one else would make him out to sound so divine. It's all some fairytale that somebody's cooked up to scare people out of Sherwood Forest." Avian giggled and peered out her window excitedly.

"Fairytale or not, he's caught _my_ interest. If I ever have the chance to meet him then I hope the rumors are at least half-true."

"Do you hope he will waylay us today?" asked Marian incredulously. "Quite frankly I have no interest in having a repeat of my last encounter with Robin Hood or his men."

'There's no harm in hoping. After all, he treats all women with the utmost respect." Marian pressed her lips firmly together and looked out her window. There was no point correcting Avian. The girl was clearly infatuated. "Marian, can you honestly say that you are not anxious to meet the man who can outsmart the Sheriff of Nottingham over and over again and who can win the heart of the people?" asked Avian quietly.

"I can say that quite honestly, actually," Marian replied tartly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Avian smile a knowing smile.

"I think you wish to meet him more than you care to say. You are as eager as I am to see him." Marian said nothing but kept her face turned away from Avian to discourage her from further conversation. She needn't have bothered. As soon as they entered Sherwood Forest, Avian remained glued to the window, peering out for any sign of Lincoln-clad foresters. To Marian's discomfort, she realized that she too kept glancing out the windows. It was to be expected that they should be waylaid. Two wealthy heiresses relatively unarmed seemed like prime targets. However, they were not stopped. Marian spent a disgruntled day shopping for gowns with Avian and worrying whether or not Robin Hood would trouble them on the return journey.

"Ladies, the hour grows late and I fear that we will not make it through Sherwood before nightfall. Would you prefer to find a place at an inn tonight and make the journey home tomorrow?" asked Edmund, their coachman.

'No, we will make the trip tonight. We did not bring enough money for all of us to sleep at an inn and I would hate for Prince John's men to have to sleep in a stable," said Marian purposefully, stepping into the carriage. Avian climbed in after her.

"That was very considerate of you, Lady Marian. After all, I was under the impression that you disdain Prince John's guards."

"Just because I don't like them doesn't mean I want to inconvenience them for no reason," said Marian evasively, looking out the window as they started for home. Avian nodded quietly. Though she had her back to her, Marian had the uncomfortable feeling that the girl was smiling again.

"You would rather risk their lives against Robin Hood and his Merry Men. That's noble of you." Marian's cheeks reddened, but she said nothing.

Unfortunately, the day's shopping had greatly wearied her, and she fell asleep with her head against the window. She was not awake to see Sherwood looming in front of them, nor did she get the opportunity to watch the trees for a sign of the Merry Men. Her eyelids finally fluttered open when Edmund pulled the coach to a stop.

"Are we there?" she mumbled, giving her head a little shake.

"Aye, you have arrived."

Marian froze. The voice that spoke did not belong to Avian or Edmund. It was a deep, male voice with an undercurrent of laughter and a mocking bite to each word. Her eyes flew open to see a pair of dark eyes swimming before her. They were set in an angular face bronzed by years of outdoor living and lined by much laughter. His thick, wavy chestnut hair was just long enough to brush the edges of his brows and his rugged beard looked as though it had only just been trimmed.

"If this gentle creature lying so innocently before me is the fair Maid Marian, then who was the dangerous damsel I met last night?" His mouth twitched. He stood peering through the window at her and his face was barely inches away. Marian did not move a muscle.

"Where am I?" she asked sharply. Looking around the carriage she saw that Avian was nowhere in sight. "What have you done with my companions?" Robin Hood made a soothing sound with his voice as though he were calming a wild horse.

"Easy. My men and I have brought you to the Greenwood and your traveling companions are feasting at my fire. I came to see if you were hungry." He did not speak to her as she had expected him to. Though he mocked her, there was an air of cordiality to him. She sat up, squinting hard.

"If I join you will your men laugh when they see me because of what happened last night?" Robin Hood shook his head, the twinkle never leaving his eye.

"No, they'll not laugh at you. It would be too hard to tell the tale without some of them using their imaginations as to what happened once I overcame you. One look at you and they'd never believe that I promptly let you go. I suspect you value your honor as much as your pride?" She sent him a quelling look. He laughed.

"You mustn't frown so; you will lose your title as the loveliest lady in England if you don't."

"Stop it! Don't treat me like all the other simpering maids that come through here, _Robert of Huntington_. I know you as you truly are and this character that you have formed to fool the peasants here in Nottingham is not the man I know." His smile flickered. Slowly, he rested his forearms on the carriage window and leaned closer, squinting at her.

"Well, the girl I knew long ago was a conceited little princess who could not find it in herself to look beyond one's ancestry. Tell me, did it humble you any when your father made a mistress of a Saxon woman?" Marian's face blazed with fury, but she knew he had a point. Summoning her dignity she drew herself up proudly.

"I apologize for the way I was back then. I have learned."

"As have I," he countered, a challenge in his voice. "And since we are on the subject of mistrusting each other I was wondering if _you_ told anyone up at the castle of what happened between us last night." She tossed her head impatiently.

"Of course not. I would never dream of sacrificing my honor like that, and likewise I could not recount the story without compromising my good name. Besides, I have no wish to promote my defeat before all of Nottingham and present you with yet another story to entice girls like Avian with." Robin grinned.

"Ah yes, Avian, I have been spending a most pleasant hour with her and I learned that you wished to see me. Apparently you had hoped to meet me this morning and I was unavailable. You'll have to forgive me. If you will step down from your carriage I would be more than happy to speak with you now." Marian's face turned scarlet.

"Very well," she said, doing her best to hide her embarrassment. Robin Hood grinned and opened the door for her, offering his hand. Marian stared at it for a moment, wondering whether or not to take it. He did not seem offended by her hesitation. In fact, he appeared more surprised when she took it.

"My men and I saved you a seat by the fire."

"You are too kind," she said through clenched teeth. Robin Hood glanced around at her.

"It appears the lady I met last night may join us after all."

"Oh hang you, Huntington!" Marian snapped. His face tightened and he squeezed her wrist hard.

"Do not use that name! I am Robert of Huntington no more," he hissed. Marian met his gaze coolly, concealing the momentary alarm that had seized her at his abrupt loss of hospitality. After a tense moment she nodded. There was something about this strange woodsman. Despite her disdain for his ways, he was an easy man to get along with and it took every ounce of willpower she had not to return his easy smile. She would give him the victory of earning her trust, though she wanted desperately for a victory of her own. Surely there must be a way to ruffle this cocky rogue.

"If you need anything my men will attend to you," said Robin Hood, helping her to a seat next to the fire. Marian looked up sharply.

"Where are you going?" she asked before she could stop herself. Robin Hood's cocky smile returned.

"Nowhere if you would rather I stayed."

"No. It's just that I can't see either of my companions and – "

"I believe that Edmund has been enjoying my wine with a little too much enthusiasm. I advised Lady Avian to help escort him to the caves at the back of the camp. It is only a few miles off and she should be returning within the hour," said Robin Hood. Marian's eyes flew open.

"Then I am here alone? Why didn't you offer to send me with them?" He looked confused.

"Less than five minutes ago you were asleep. I thought it best not to wake you."

"What about now?" she demanded, standing up at once and balling her hands into fists. Robin Hood's eyes darted to her hands with amusement; his face remained graciously impassive. He said nothing, which only made her angrier.

"And where are my guards?" she challenged. "We rode with four of Prince John's men. If you've caused them any harm at all then you deserve to be captured and thrown in the Tower of London where you belong!" To her fury, Robin Hood threw back his head and laughed again.

"Look around you, Lady Marian, your guard is perfectly safe and are enjoying themselves. If it is a crime to feed and be merry then I suppose we are outlaws for a reason." He studied her carefully. She could not look into those dark eyes without feeling the power of his infectious smile. When she raised her head again, Robin Hood had gone. Feeling abandoned, she seated herself by the fire, trying to ignore the penetrating glances that came from the male faces around her.

The soporific power of the fire mingled with the merriment in the air lulled Marian into a drowsy state. She barely took any notice when Avian returned, though she made a mental note to chastise her later for leaving. The men around her dropped off to sleep, drugged by large quantities of good food and ale. Marian was half-asleep herself when suddenly she felt a hand lightly shake her shoulder. Startled, she whirled around. Robin Hood grinned down at her.

"It seems I have a habit for disturbing you when you sleep. Please, come with me for a walk."

"Do you ever sleep, Robin Hood?" she yawned as they left the camp. "You feast until all hours of the night and yet you are awake to waylay even the earliest messengers. Perhaps there is truth to the rumors that you are actually a forest god and not really a man at all." He chuckled and glanced back at her for a moment.

"I sleep when I need it but never for long. There is too much to do in Nottingham for me to spend idle hours lying under a bush." He glanced over his shoulder to where the orange glow of the fires had become a distant speck and stopped. "Marian, about last night…" She held up a hand.

"Please don't remind me. You were right about the Sheriff," she mumbled. "I didn't see what was going on right in front of me."

"You had no reason to see it. And I apologize if I offended you in any way."

"If I was offended it was because I aimed to insult you and received an insult in return." He chuckled and folded his arms as he leaned his shoulder against a tree. Marian squinted at him through the darkness.

"Robert, what happened to you? What made you go from the son of the honorable Earl of Huntington to Robin Hood of Sherwood Forest?"

"Don't ask me that, Marian," he said quietly.

"I _am_ asking that, Robert. I want to know."

"Do you?" he asked heavily, lowering his head to look at his boots. She nodded, drawing her thick cloak more tightly around her shoulders. He sighed. "I will only tell you because you are the only person I have met who knows who I truly am. But tell no one this story." She nodded.

"I grew up away from Huntington; the day of my mother's wedding was the last time I called it home. But I always knew that one day it would be mine again, and as my seventeenth birthday approached I grew more anxious to return. I traveled there for the May Day celebration, but I did not write Giles to tell him I was coming. There was a great feast on the eve before May Day in my father's hall and I snuck my way in hoping to make a grand entrance. The feast was well underway and I disguised myself as one of the entertainers. I thought it great fun to give the herald my name before I was set to "perform." You'd have thought I was my father back from the dead.

"Giles tried to offer me a room for the night (think of it; he was offering me a room in my own castle) but my Uncle Gamwell had warned me to stay away from Giles at all costs; at the time I did not understand why. I refused the offer.

"The next day all of Huntington was buzzing about my unexpected return, and as none but those from the night before new my face I could walk among them and hear their opinion of me unseen. Many hoped I would rule as my father had, but some thought I might follow in Giles' footsteps. I promised those that I spoke with that I would never follow Giles' example, but they needed proof. Somehow I needed to impress them and make them proud of me. As is customary there would be an archery tournament, and I knew that was my chance. When I put my name in the lists one of the judges demanded I hand over one of my arrows."

"Why?" Marian interrupted. Robin shrugged.

"He told me that all of the competitors must hand over one arrow to ensure no one has an unfair advantage. I was too naïve to think anything of it other than it was a strange custom. I did as he said and walked away. I will not bore you with the details of the tournament. Needless to say I won and impressed even the most stubborn among those determined to hate me. I'm sure I played to the crowd a little bit; I recall needlessly firing a shot through a garland wreath decorating the field next to the judges' box. I must admit I was a bit of an ass, encouraging their cheers and all."

"Good to see you've outgrown all that," said Marian under her breath. He ignored her.

"Suddenly Giles was shouting my name. He asked me what my arrows were made of, and without thinking I replied that they were green-fletched and I made them myself. 'You'll not find another like mine anywhere,' I told him proudly, thinking it was all to do with the tournament and he was displeased that I had beat out his best knights. He smiled at me then and in that instant I knew exactly what he'd done. That morning, a man was murdered outside Huntington, shot through the heart with a green-fletched arrow and like an idiot I had just given him the means to ruin me; I'd handed over my arrow without complaint and practically announced myself the killer for everyone to hear. If I was labeled a criminal then my lands remained under the Giles' control. I was trapped. No man or woman would dare stand up against him even if there were witnesses. He sent in his guards to arrest me."

"How did you escape?" asked Marian quietly. Robin closed his eyes, remembering that horrible day.

"What choice did I have? I fled into the crowd. I didn't expect to make it far with the guards closing in on all sides, but the people—my people—protected me. They parted to let me pass and then closed ranks against the guards to allow me the chance to make my escape. They had no reason to protect me; perhaps they knew Giles well enough to know his tricks or else they did it out of respect for my father, but whatever the reason I am forever indebted to them. They suffered a terrible price for what they did. It is treasonous to aid a criminal and from what I have heard, Giles incarcerated as many as his prisons could hold. His guards were given free rein to pillage and destroy at will. Huntington still stands but it has never recovered from that horrible day. It was only after I was made an outlaw that my uncle saw fit to tell me the truth of how Giles had come to possess my lands. I'd always known my father died in a hunting accident, but the truth was that it had been no accident.

"For three years, I wandering England trying to reclaim my lands, but I knew it was no use," Robin said, concluding the tale. "Giles of Northwood is a powerful man and I had underestimated him. He made sure it was well-known that I had been outlawed so I could not safely show my face in any English court. To escape him, I even tried to stage my own death. For a long time I thought it had worked, because the number of men searching for me diminished. But Giles watched my uncle and aunt from then on instead of tracking me. I stayed in contact with my Uncle Gamwell and Aunt Cecily, hoping that perhaps there was something they could do to either clear my name or break Giles' hold on Huntington. I stayed far away from Huntington and Locksley and we communicated by letters, but one of my messengers was in Giles' pay and he gave the letter to my stepfather. By the time I learned of it, I was too late to warn them. On a charge of treason, Giles burnt Locksley Manor to the ground, murdered my uncle, and turned my aunt into a servant in his household. My cousins tried to run for it, but Joseph was shot and killed in the forest. I have heard nothing of Will since."

Robin was a strong man and though the story produced a deep ache of sorrow, his voice remained steady and he spoke with deliberate detachment. He watched Marian's face to see how she reacted. There was no telling with her. Her alabaster face remained solemn and expressionless as though she knew that he tested her.

"It's a sad story, Robin," she said quietly. "But I know you don't trust me. Why would you share your sorrow with me?" Robin cleared his throat and stepped away from the tree he had been leaning against.

"You are in an unusual position, Maid Marian. If I know you, it will gall you to see the effects of my stepfather's tyranny without being able to do anything. You are a warrior and a woman with good sense and instincts. I want you to help me. I cannot move about the way you can. Without an eye and ear in the castle Giles will stay one step ahead of me. I told you this to show you what sort of man he is. He must be stopped."

"You want me to be your spy?" she asked, turning her back on him. "It's dangerous. As you said, Giles is treacherous and merciless and should I be discovered my life would not be worth the mud on your boots."

"It's the right thing to do," he pressed, stepping closer to her.

"This is your crusade, not mine. Why should I have any part in it?"

"Marian please, I need someone that Giles will trust. You have his eye already. My men and I would protect you."

"I have no wish to end up like your aunt and uncle, Robin." Marian winced as soon as the words were out. Robin's face grew taut as a bowstring. "I'm sorry," she added quickly. He nodded but said nothing. A tense silence fell between them. Robin glanced up at the sky.

"It's late and you will want to sleep before returning tomorrow," he said with rigid formality. He turned to go, but Marian called him back. She grimaced, knowing in her heart that what she was doing was wrong.

"I will help you Robin, but you must not expect more of me than you have a right to." He nodded with his slow, ready smile. They walked back to the Great Oak in silence. Marian sat down next to Avian who lay sleeping beside the fire. The night was colder now and Marian shivered a moment. Suddenly, a warm cloak covered her shoulders. She looked up to see Robin smiling kindly down on her. She smiled back reluctantly.

"Who did you steal this from?"

"Little John, but he's had so much ale that he'll never notice." She smiled and nodded.

"Thank you."

"Good night Maid Marian."


	6. Chapter 6

"I'm afraid I will have to blindfold all of you until we reach the edge of the forest," Robin announced the next morning while the two ladies and their guards prepared to leave. The Prince's men exchanged disgruntled looks, but Robin refused argument. Marian, who was enjoying her breakfast of fresh bread and salt pork, looked around indignantly at this pronouncement. She noticed that Robin had shed his Lincoln green and dressed himself as an ordinary peasant this morning, wearing a dirt-stained tunic with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A plain homespun hood draped around his shoulders while the worn dark leather strap of his quiver ran across his chest. Though the costume was dirty and completely commonplace, it made a surprising transformation in his appearance. Were it not for the subconsciously arrogant set of his jaw or his undeniably commanding presence, he was disappointingly ordinary in Marian's esteem.

"We understand completely," said Avian in a girlish voice; clearly she did not share Marian's opinion. "Will you and your men be accompanying us to the village?"

Marian's appetite vanished and she handed her plate over to a young lad with blindingly bright blonde hair bobbing around at her elbow. Scowling, she got to her feet and moved to stand protectively behind the other girl. It would not do for Prince John's men to witness Avian's obvious attraction to the outlaw and it galled her that Robin seemed to be doing everything in his power to encourage it. Oblivious to the cold stare Marian sent him, Robin bowed low to press his lips to Avian's hand.

"What kind of host would I be if I did not see my guests to the door?"

Avian's face sparkled. She reached out and touched Robin's arm almost reverently and Marian was glad that by this point all of their guards had already received their blindfolds.

"Will we ever see you again?" she asked. Robin smiled into her bright, brown eyes.

"Perhaps; if you know where to look."

"I will be ever watchful," she murmured so that only Marian and Robin could hear her. Quickly, she rose up on her toes and kissed him. Behind her, Marian made a sharp sound of disapproval. Robin stepped back and cupped her small hand in both of his with a polite smile.

"Farewell, fair Avian," he said, bringing her hand up to his lips again. Her smile shone like the summer sun. Lowering her lashes, she allowed him to blindfold her and hand her into the carriage. The moment she was safely inside, Marian seized Robin by the wrist. He looked down at her strong grip with mild amusement.

"What happened between the two of you last night?" Marian asked. His mouth twitched.

"I will not share _every_ private story of my life, Maid Marian," he replied in a mocking voice. Her green eyes narrowed.

"Be serious! Avian is young and impulsive. Do not take advantage of her. I will not allow you to ruin her good name for your mere sport." Robin cocked his head to the right, still smiling that arrogant smile of his.

"It would seem your concern stems from jealousy so I will put your fears to rest by revealing that I treated the young lady as any decent host would. She leaves today exactly as she arrived." Visibly relieved, Marian released his arm. She glanced over her shoulder at the carriage.

"Don't be stupid. I'm not jealous, just concerned. I think she is more than half inclined to be in love with you."

"Many are." At this, Marian sent him an impatient look and followed her friend into the carriage. Robin laughed and gestured to the others that they should be off.

Robin, Little John, and Alan a Dale led the company through the forest. Little John held the reins of the horses since the coachman was blindfolded. Alan and Robin stayed well away from the carriage, Robin far to the front and Alan far behind. They always took such precautions when leading men to and from their camp; many lives depended on such secrecy. After a long and winding route, they arrived at the edge of the forest. Robin watched from a nearby tree as Little John removed the blindfolds from the guards and coachman and then from the two ladies. As expected, Marian was the least cooperative of the bunch and if she'd had a sword Robin knew Little John would have been in mortal danger.

Overall, everything had gone well. Fortune in the form of the two young ladies had brought Prince John's men to his camp. Leaving, all were well-fed and none besides Marian seemed overly put out by the experience. Good. Let Giles hear how his own allies praised his enemy; let him fume over the fact that even the Prince's men were powerless in Sherwood. And if he knew Giles as well as he thought, then Robin knew he was exceedingly fortunate to have found an ally in Marian; just one look at her and Robin knew his stepfather would try to claim her just as he had done with Lady Charity all those years ago, not to mention the lure of her considerable wealth and rank. Her refusal to wed would only make her more desirable in the Sheriff's eyes, and all the while he pursued her, she was playing spy for his enemy. Robin's lip curled in satisfaction; fate at last was smiling upon him.

Just on the edge of the woods Little John brought the carriage to a halt. The prince's men remained tied to the carriage because Robin did not care to take any chances once they were free to reach for their weapons. With a hearty farewell, he sent the carriage on to the castle, the four guards trotting to keep pace with the carriage without being dragged in the dust.

"What a story that will be," said Alan, coming to stand beside Robin as they watched the procession rumble away toward the village. Little John nodded.

"Aye, but I have the feeling the Sheriff and Prince John won't care for it."

"Come to think of it, I should very much like to see their reactions for myself," said Robin pensively. Before the others could stop him, he pushed through the trees to follow the carriage into town. There was no chance of the Prince's men pointing him out; as the villagers began to take notice of the four royal guards tied to the back of the carriage audible speculation of Robin Hood's involvement swept the crowd along with much jeering and pointing. Robin almost felt sorry for the men as they hung their heads and endured the laughter in silence.

A shadow fell upon him, alerting Robin of Little John's arrival.

"I wouldn't like to be in their boots when the Prince gets hold of them," Little John muttered. "Perhaps we should have untied them." Robin shook his head. Though humiliating for the soldiers, the humiliation suffered by Giles and Prince John was far worse and he refused to pass up such an opportunity.

"Well, we have done enough here," he started to say, but a loud noise behind him caught his attention.

"I won that round fair and square you lying, scheming, son of a—"

"What's going on here?" said Little John mildly, looking around as well. Two young men were standing practically nose to nose over a card table on the other side of the road just outside the door of a tavern.

"What did you call me, runt?" growled the second man, a tall fair-haired farmer's son by the name of Gus who was known throughout Nottingham for being hot-tempered and quick with his fists. His opponent, a dark-haired young man dressed in a long scarlet traveling cloak and a garish red vest, seemed every bit as hot-tempered and eager for a fight. He stood with his back to Robin and Little John, but even from across the street they saw his shoulder muscle bunch as he curled his fists.

"What, couldn't you hear me, or did you have your head up your—"

Wham! Gus punched him full in the mouth. The young man staggered to one knee, stunned. Regaining his feet, he launched himself at Gus and tackled him backward onto the road, toppling the card table and sending their cards flying. Robin and Little John exchanged a pained expression; many of the youngest members of the Merry Men often tried to tangle with Gus and needed rescuing, and this hot young pup looked be no different. Nodding his head resignedly, Robin led the way across the street. As he approached, a strange awareness came over him; he had seen that scarlet cloak before. His heart stopped in his chest.

"Come on, is that the best you can do you idiot? I'll teach you to try and cheat me!" As the dark-haired man pinned Gus to his back and proceeded to pummel him mercilessly with both fists, Robin saw his face.

The whole world went still.

"WILL!"

His cousin's head whipped up, battle fire dancing in his eyes. The moment he saw Robin, his body went lax. A cold December wind whipped past, snapping his scarlet cloak back with a sharp crack. The two stared at each other in disbelief, oblivious to the world around them. Gus however was not oblivious, and he seized his chance by punching Will square in the chest. Will grunted and fell to his side, winded and dazed.

Robin laughed; he knew he should do something to help his kinsman as Gus seized his advantage and took his revenge for Will's earlier attack, but such was the overwhelming relief that coursed through him at the sight of his long lost cousin that watching the idiotic brawl seemed the most hilarious thing in the world. Little John, shocked by Robin's lack of action, moved forward and pulled the two men apart. It was lucky, because as Will was still dazed from disbelief he was hardly proving much of a match for Gus. Robin seized him roughly and pulled him into a bone-crushing embrace.

"I looked everywhere for you!" he said through his laughter, gripping Will's face in his hands. Will grinned, ignoring the trickle of blood that dripped from a cut above his left eye.

"I went all over England trying to find you. I thought Giles had you."

Robin laughed and trapped his cousin's head in the crook of his arm.

"That incompetent fool couldn't catch a cold, much less me!"

By that point Will was laughing too hard to wrestle away and he merely stood there gasping for breath and hanging on Robin for support. Little John released Gus with a warning glance, and then looked between the two cousins curiously.

"Something amusing?" he said at last when neither seemed about to explain the source of the hilarity. Robin chuckled again, straightening up.

"Aye John, the saints have played a tremendous prank on us today. We scoured the country in search of one another and finally met by chance," Robin chuckled, letting Will go. "This is my cousin, William of Locksley."

"Pleased to meet you, lad," said Little John, bowing his head with a smile of dawning comprehension. Will nodded, eyeing him with a fair degree of wariness. It was a common reaction for people unused to John's formidable seven foot frame.

"What brings you to Nottingham?" Robin asked, eager to know everything that had happened since the night of the fire. Will stopped gawking at Little John and puffed out his chest.

"Since you vanished without a trace, I thought I would come here and try and win myself a place among the outlaws in Sherwood Forest. There's not a shire in England that hasn't heard of them. And since it's their goal to ruin Giles of Northwood I know that's where I belong. Say Robert, you wouldn't know how to find Robin Hood, would you?" Will's face was shining with enthusiasm and complete obliviousness. Little John closed his eyes and soon his shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter. The corner of Robin's mouth twitched, but he did his best to assume a serious expression.

"Aye, I've run into the rogue a time or two. What makes you think you'll earn a place among his men? It's no easy thing. Little John here nearly had to beat him to death to be offered a spot." Will's smile dimmed.

"Aye, I know that, but I'm a good fighter and I'd do anything to take down Giles after what he did. Surely Robin Hood can find some use for me." Robin and Little John glanced at each other, not daring to crack a smile for fear of ruining the jest.

"Well William of Locksley," said Little John. "If Hood were to accept you, you can't go walking around with a name like that. The Sheriff would be on you like a hound on a hare. If you're going to be dressing like that, we might have to start calling you Will Scarlett. Robin and Will glanced at each other. The family resemblance was astounding; they might as well have been brothers for all they looked like the other. They possessed the same dark eyes, the same chestnut hair. There was something similar in the way they smiled even. Will was taller and lankier, while Robin was more muscular.

"Will Scarlett?" Robin repeated, standing back to get a better look at his cousin. Will's choice of clothing was a bit absurd. After months of nothing but Lincoln green, Will's vivid wardrobe seemed almost comical. Will looked down too.

"Do you not like it?"

"It's an unsuitable color for the life of an outlaw," said Robin, stroking his chin thoughtfully. Will's head snapped up defensively, but he stopped when he sensed the joke lingering in the air just out of his reach. Robin and Little John exchanged a grin. Little John shrugged his monstrous shoulders. "I suppose Robin might give you a chance."

"Do you really think he'll admit me?" asked Will uneasily, still looking between them. Robin threw back his head with a deep hearty laugh.

"I would be honored to have you by my side again, cousin."

Will's jaw dropped.

Over the course of the few hours, Robin and Will caught up with each other. Will knew all that Robin had been through, having been his correspondent at Locksley castle during Robin's exile. As they talked, Robin saw that his cousin had changed since they had last spoken. The care-free youth he grew up with was gone, replaced by a volatile young man.

"Put your anger aside, Will. You are among good men, and you have all the comforts of the world here in Sherwood. Here is a place apart from the one that turned us away."

"I'll kill Giles of Northwood," Will snarled. He and Robin stood talking in a clearing away from the Great Oak. He smashed his fist against a nearby tree so forcefully that the skin over his knuckles began to bleed.

"No!" said Robin sharply. "Leave Giles alone. What he did to you is nothing compared to what he has done to me." Will said nothing but spat upon the ground in the Sheriff's name. Blood dripped onto the carpet of dead leaves from his bleeding hand. Robin stared at the injured hand, but Will seemed hardly to notice.

"Lady Marian, tell us all you can about what happened to you last night," said Giles, pushing her into a chair. Marian did her best not to glare at him for his rough treatment. The moment they arrived, her guards informed the Sheriff where they had been the night before. Since then, Giles had been trying to pry information about Robin Hood from her and Avian with growing impatience.

"I've already told you, he blindfolded us," said Marian patiently, folding her hands in her lap and keeping her eyes lowered. She chanced a glance at Giles' face and saw a feverish glaze over his eyes. As their eyes locked, Marian felt a chill sweep through her, remembering all the horrible deeds Robin Hood had told her. Suddenly she did not feel at ease.

"For a woman who has spent the evening in the company of outlaws, you seem quite calm," said Giles smoothly, changing his tact. Marian leveled him with a stare. She had been given time to go to her quarters and refresh herself before she was summoned into his office, and she now wore a long velvet gown of deepest purple trimmed with silver. Her long, billowy sleeves fell well below her knees and trailed the floor where she sat on the uncomfortable, wooden chair

"What do you mean by that?" she asked carefully. The unease inside her began to grow.

"I mean, Milady, that my stepson must have made quite an impression upon you to merit such loyalty." Marian's dark eyebrows arched with surprise. Giles' sharp black eyes caught the hesitation that came over her face. "Come now, you can hardly think I would not know my own stepson. I'll admit it took long enough for me to piece it all together, but there can be no doubt that it's him. Now, where is he hiding?" he demanded.

"As I have told you before, we were blindfolded as we left the camp and I was asleep when we entered."

"I don't think you realize the position you're in," said Giles, resting his hands on both arms of her chair. "By keeping information from me, you are aiding a known criminal. I have sent people to jail for less." There was danger in his voice as he leaned his face towards hers. Marian did not sit back from him as was expected of her. Their faces were barely inches from each other and she saw with disgust how his eyes traveled over her face with undisguised interest.

"I have told you all I know of Robin Hood, Sire," said Marian sharply. "Ask Avian if you think I lie." She met his eyes bravely, refusing to be intimidated. It was true Giles had surprised her, but she had a few surprises for him if he thought he could bully her into telling him what he wanted. Marian's green gaze never wavered and at long last, Giles looked away and stepped back from her chair. Relieved to have his horrid breath which reeked of the trout they had eaten for breakfast out of her face, she made a show of rearranging her long skirts to prove how unruffled she was by his threats. He turned his back on her but watched her over his shoulder.

"I would be careful if I were you, Lady Marian. Don't go getting mixed up in business that is not your affair. It's dangerous to cross me," he warned, looking her up and down where she sat. His eyes lingered at the plunging neckline of her gown, causing a rush of indignation to color her cheeks. Marian stood up slowly, assuming all the dignity she could muster.

"If I were you, I would concentrate on the enemy out there in the forest before I started making enemies under my own roof. When it comes down to it, you do not scare me." She brushed past him without another word. She knew he watched her but she left the room without bothering to glance in his direction. Out in the hall, her bravery wavered. The story of Robin's aunt and uncle stood out forcibly in her memory. They had been stripped of their power simply for communicating with their nephew. If she helped Robin, what would happen to her?

Marian glanced over her shoulder to the office she had just left. Although she felt no particular loyalty to Robin, she did feel obligated to do as she'd promised. She started walking again. She made her way down to the kitchens. The smell of festering meat and rotten vegetables made her feel sick, but she pressed on.

"Excuse me," she said to a doughy man in a bloodstained apron. "Do you know of any kitchen maid here by the name of Cecily?" The man nodded expressionlessly and pointed toward the back of the room.

"Aye, you'll find her back there somewhere," he grunted. Marian nodded and followed the direction he had given her. Picking her skirts off the filthy floor, she wound her way through the kitchens until she found the back wall. There, she saw two women seated on whicker chairs shelling peas. The women appeared the same age; their faces lined by sorrow and strain. Neither looked up when Marian approached.

"Excuse me," said Marian, a little louder than she would normally have since the kitchen echoed so loudly with the shouts of the cooks and servants. "Is either of you the Lady Cecily?" The two women did not react. Marian wondered if perhaps they were deaf. They merely continued shelling peas, eyes never straying from their dry, cracked hands. She moved closer and lowered her voice so that only they might hear.

"I have a message for you from Robin Hood."

At the sound of the name, both ladies awoke as if from an enchantment. They glanced fearfully at each other, and the older of the two beckoned urgently for Marian to lean closer.

"What would Robin Hood want with Lady Cecily?" she asked suspiciously, her blue eyes searching Marian's face with unsettling clarity.

"I'm afraid that my message is for Lady Cecily alone. Which of you is she?"

"I am Lady Cecily." It was the other woman that spoke this time. Marian turned to her and wondered how she hadn't known her upon first sight. She possessed the same dark eyes as her nephew, eyes that were neither brown nor green, but a mixture of the two. They were intelligent and penetrating eyes, but they were softened in her gentle face.

"This is my maid, Angelina. What is your message, sweet one?" Marian knelt beside her and reverently took the woman's withered hands in her own. Lady Cecily was not an old woman, but the hardships she had endured over the past year had aged her severely. Her dark hair was streaked with gray and her fine features were disfigured by weathered skin and chapped lips. Marian gave her a warm smile.

"I would like to inform you that your nephew, Robert of Huntington, is safe," whispered Marian into the lady's ear. Lady Cecily came erect and her dull expression transformed into one of complete alertness.

"Is he with Robin Hood? Does he know anything of Will?" she asked, gripping Marian's arm tightly. Marian could not help but smile.

"Sweet lady, Robert _is_ Robin Hood." Lady Cecily drew back slowly, her dark eyes wide with a mixture of surprise, awe, and fear. Marian continued to smile at her.

"Robert is…? But how? What of Will? Is he with him?" she asked. Marian shook her head.

"As to that I don't know. But Robin asked me to inform you that he will come for you. He is working tirelessly to right the wrongs of his stepfather." Lady Cecily closed her eyes and sat back against her chair. Her thick wool frock had soup stains and dirt smeared across it, and there were puffs of flower on her cheeks and even in her hair. Despite her miserable appearance, her relief made her radiant.

"Aye, that is Robert. Ever since he learned of Giles' treachery he has made it his mission to stop him. Tell me, how is he?" Marian gladly told her everything she could recount and told every good quality of the man she could think of. She and Lady Cecily laughed together, for Marian took great pleasure in bringing the woman some peace after all she had been through. She ended her story with the promise Robin had given her, that he would protect her for being his spy. Lady Cecily nodded.

"And he will. Robert is not a man who makes the same mistake twice. No doubt he blames himself for what happened at Locksley, and if he has asked you to risk your safety for him, he will stop at nothing to see that no harm comes to you, rest assured on that. But I wonder why he would choose you. Robert would never risk the life of a lady."

"Yes well, Robin knows I am made of stronger mettle than most ladies." She described the fight between her and Robin after the feast. Lady Cecily's eyes twinkled.

"You must have impressed him greatly if he took no offense from nearly being beaten. Robert takes great pride in his strengths."

"Lady Marian," said Angelina abruptly. "You must go soon or else you will draw attention to us." Marian nodded, having lost track of the time. She and Lady Cecily exchanged a regretful look. Seeing the kind lady before her, Marian wondered how such a sweet lady could help raise such an obnoxious boy. Sadly, she took her leave and promised to return when she heard news from Robin.

As she left the kitchens, Marian ran into Guy of Gisborn standing in wait for her. Her heart froze at the sight of him, but she managed to keep her expression neutral. He smiled.

"What were you doing down there, _Maid Marian_?" he asked, jerking his head toward the kitchens.

"I wished to have my meal brought to my rooms this evening. Why? What business is it of yours?"

"The Sheriff has asked me to keep close watch upon you; he seems to think that you might be uncertain as to whose side you're on." Marian's face reddened with outrage.

"I merely went to see about my dinner arrangements," she snapped. His smile widened.

"You were down there an awfully long time. Are our delicacies not adequate enough for your refined tastes that you had to oversee the cooking yourself?"

"Hang you, Gisborn! I've had enough of you!" she strode past him in a towering rage. She went to her quarters and bolted the door behind her. For the rest of the day she stayed locked in her room, refusing to see anyone—not even Lucy. Later in the afternoon, a tentative knock came at her door. Marian glared at the doorway.

"Lady Marian?" The voice sounded muffled and hesitant. When she opened the door, she saw that it was Lady Cecily. Before she could ask what she was doing there, Lady Cecily thrust a scrap of parchment into her hands.

"Take it to Robin," she whispered, before hurrying away. Marian stared after her, too stunned to say anything. Once Lady Cecily had gone, she turned over the parchment in her hands. It read:

Your mother is alive.

Marian stared at the message in shock. She knew the story of Lady Charity's death, how she had gone mad to the point where Giles had locked her up to stop her from trying to run away and eventually she'd died of a fever. Robin must know of this. As that thought crossed her mind, she realized how easily she had fallen into his company. Over the course of two days she had gone from despising him to risking her life for him. How had that happened?

She waited until well after midnight. Once again she donned the clothes of a stableboy and wore the dented helmet she had brought from London. She knew it would not fool Robin twice, but as she was not a master of disguise as he was, it would have to do. She made Lucy swear to tell no one that she had left and to inform anyone who asked that she was sleeping. Carefully, Marian crept out of the castle and started running toward the forest. The letter from Lady Cecily was tucked inside her tunic front, as she had no pockets. As she ran she remembered that she truly did not know which way Robin's camp lay. She only had a few hours until daylight to find it, relay the message, and return before anyone suspected she was gone.

Once she reached Sherwood Forest, she knew her best bet was to keep moving toward the center. Judging from the feasting and carrying on she had partaken in the night before, it would be easy to spot the campfires once she got close enough. That made her wonder; why couldn't the Sheriff capture Robin Hood? It couldn't be that hard to comb Sherwood Forest.

Marian became agile as a deer, leaping and jumping over the uneven terrain, yet moving with the utmost stealth. Her brother would have been proud of her that night. Her booted feet hardly made a sound over the dead leaves. She paused for a moment, shivering beneath her cloak and tunic. The December night was bitterly cold and her hands were painful as she balled them into fists. When she paused to catch her breath, she saw a snowflake land gently on her shoulder. Marian shivered. She must return quickly or else she would freeze to death in the snow.

Up ahead she thought she heard low voices. Holding her breath, she crept forward with the utmost care. She could see the light from the campfire and shadowy figures seated around it. Relief blossomed inside her. She had done it. Still she tread with caution because she only wished to speak with Robin and not go in amongst the others. As she drew near she saw the faces more clearly and she could even recognize a few men from the rest. There was Little John with his face buried in a large, wooden tankard obviously carved just for him. Beside him sat the minstrel, Alan a Dale and his wife. The other men sat wrapped in cloaks and blankets but drinking and laughing merrily, lit by the glow from the fire. Robin Hood stood beside another boy. Marian blinked when she saw him because it could well have been Robin's twin except that he wore a strangely vibrant shade of scarlet from head to foot. He and Robin were telling a story and throwing back their heads in laughter. The rest of the company howled as well. Robin patted the young man on the shoulder and began walking around the circle of men, pausing to talk to some. She watched him quietly, wondering. Robin Hood could have told every man around him to fling himself onto the fire and every man there would have, such was the love and devotion she saw upon the bearded faces before her. Robin was their king, their hero. Any one of them would have laid their life down for him without hesitation.

Suddenly, Marian noticed something. Robin had stopped pausing to talk to his men as he made his way around the circle. He might laugh when they called something out to him, but he was slowly extricating himself from their midst. Something about him changed in the span of an instant. Some of his lighthearted air vanished. He excused himself and disappeared out of Marian's range of vision. She gritted her teeth. If he had gone off on another of his 'missions' she might never find him. Quietly, she made to follow him, skirting the edge of the camp in case anyone might notice her presence.

"I had not expected to see you again so soon, Maid Marian," said a familiar voice. Marian's heart leapt into her throat and she whirled around. Robin Hood stood behind her, his shoulder leaning casually against a tree. It was as if he had appeared by magic. Quickly she removed her helmet. He smirked at her obvious confusion. "You should mind which way the wind blows. None of my band has the luxury of perfume."

"Robin, I came to give you a message from your aunt." His self-satisfied smile vanished in the space of a heartbeat.

"You have seen Aunt Cecily?" he hissed, coming toward her. Marian stepped back, instinctively.

"Yes, and I told her that you are safe. She asked me to give you a message." With stiff, frozen fingers she fumbled for the scrap of parchment tucked down her tunic. Robin snatched it from her when she held it out to him and she saw his expression change when he read what was written there. He became a statue of shadow and light, molded by the glow from the fire behind him. His expression was unreadable, but as she studied him, Marian felt an overwhelming rush of sadness. Hesitantly, she reached out a hand and touched his arm. He raised his head, not quite seeing her.

"I have to get back to the castle now," she said quietly. "I thought you ought to know." He nodded wordlessly, staring down at the paper again with the daze of a man presented with a treasure he thought lost forever.

"Marian," he said quietly as she began to withdraw. "Tell Aunt Cecily that I have found Will and that he is safely among my company. Tell her how sorry I am for all that has happened to her. Tell her—forgive me, I had forgotten that you were in a hurry. Tell her not to worry if there is no news of me. Winter is upon us here in the Greenwood and we must all seek shelter from the cold. Tell her if she ever has need of me to send word to Sherwood and I will always get it."

"Robin," said Marian slowly. She thought carefully about how she framed her words. "I believe the Sheriff knows that I am helping you." He sent her a swift look. "He is keeping close watch upon me, so if you would rather choose a safer person to act as spy…"

"As I said before, my men and I will soon disband for the winter. Until spring you will have no cause to arouse the Sheriff's suspicion. In the meantime, if something should happen, don't worry. I gave you my word I would protect you for helping me and I mean to stand by it."

"Very well, Robin," she replied heavily. "I will do as you say." She nodded and started to turn back the way she had come, but stopped again. He watched her, waiting. She sighed.

"Forgive me, but time is short and I don't quite know the way. Can you help me?"

"Certainly."

Marian's energy began to fail her and the winter weather grew stronger. The snow fell more heavily. By the time they had reached the forest's edge a thin layer lay upon the ground. Robin stared at it, worried. Marian knew what he was thinking. Their tracks would be easy to trace.

"Hurry," he said, walking briskly toward Nottingham town.

"Which room is yours?" he asked, staring up at the castle. Marian narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Why?"

"If ever there is need for me to send a message to you, it would be better if I knew where to have my letter sent." There was no hint of anything further and Marian believed him.

"It's that one," she said, pointing at a window on the second floor. Robin stared at it, memorizing it for later.

"Tell me; how fares Lady Avian," he said unexpectedly. Something in Marian's stomach hardened.

"Avian?"

"Aye, has the Sheriff questioned her as well about my whereabouts?"

"Yes, but he seems to have sensed something in me that he did not in her, because he let her go without further questioning. Why do you ask?" She wished she could take back the accusation in the question. Robin Hood grinned at her.

"Jealous again, Maid Marian?" She narrowed her eyes.

"No. I thought I told you to stay away from Avian. She would be too willing to throw herself into your arms; she does not understand the dangers in associating with you." Robin nodded, leading the way up to the castle.

"It's true, but it has been a long time since I have felt affection for a lovely lady, and there are few ladies that come through Sherwood as lovely as she." Marian blocked his path, her arms rigid at her sides and her eyes narrowed.

"I warn you Robin, leave her alone. She doesn't need to be mixed up with your sort." His eyes twinkled and he mimicked her pose, head thrust forward in challenge.

"What about you? You are mixed up with 'my sort', aren't you?"

"Of my own foolish volition," she replied sharply, turning away with a shudder. "Come, let's enter through the kitchens. Perhaps you can have a chance to talk with your aunt before dawn. Be careful though. It's dangerous for you to be so near the Sheriff. You are brave and clever, but you are not incapable of being caught."

"Your caring touches me," he said with a mocking smile. She sent him a withering glance.

In the kitchens they parted ways. With all possible haste she rushed up to her quarters and climbed into bed. Lucy sat sleeping by the fire, obviously waiting for her. Marian chose not to wake her. Now that she was warm and safe between the covers, she felt indescribably weary. In a matter of minutes, she was fast asleep.

"Will, I already told you that you are only allowed to wear that cloak at camp. You stand out like a peacock in a chicken coop," Robin hissed as his cousin flattened himself along the ground beside him. Will scowled.

"Rob, I told you—"

"Quiet!" Robin shushed, gesturing with his hand to make Will be quiet. The silence of the forest was broken by the steady plod of horses off in the distance. Will clenched his jaw, his eyes alert and anxious. This was the first expedition Robin had taken him on and as Robin glanced once more at his cousin's vibrant attire, he seriously regretted the decision. This was to be their last outing before officially disbanding for the winter, but with Will standing like a beacon for all to see in his glaring red cloak, it would be a miracle if they survived the day. Shaking his head, he turned back toward the road and eased aside the leaves of a shrub blocking his vision. A large black carriage rolled softly over the leaves, pulled by a team of four identical black horses, each of them magnificent.

Robin whistled, imitating the bird that was his namesake. An answering call issued from the thick shrubbery across the road to let him know the others had seen as well. As the carriage rolled toward them, Much leapt out from behind a tree and into its path. The horses neighed and stamped as their coachman reined them in hard.

"Get out of the way boy!" he barked at Much, who beamed at him.

"Only if you share half of your purse with a score of poor yeomen," Robin called from his hiding place. Several bushes around the clearing shifted as Robin's men made their presence known. The coachman looked up in alarm, but set against the green leaves Robin was imperceptible. Much, confident in his position, moved toward the coachman, holding out his cap for the man's gold.

"If you give that man so much as one farthing I will slice the ears from your head, Matthew!" roared a deep voice from the coach. The dark pools of Robin's eyes turned stormy.

"If half is too much then we will make do with a mere third," he called, his eyes on the door of the carriage.

"You will make do with a rope around your neck, you knaves! Do you realize who I am?" shouted the passenger with authority in his voice. Robin scowled.

"Of course, Sheriff. How could we not know you? Who else would travel in such a gilded cage?" The black carriage door opened and the impressive figure of the Sheriff of Nottingham stepped onto the path, dressed in a shining fur mantle latched over his shoulder with a wolfshead brooch. Robin's fingers itched for an arrow and beside him, Will growled deep in his throat.

"Show yourself, Hood! Do not send a boy to die a man's death!" Robin slipped an arrowed from his quiver and fitted it to his bow. Behind him, Will gave a sharp intake of breath, but Robin paid him no attention. His focus was on Much, who did not realize the danger he was in. He wanted to call him back because the gleam in the Sheriff's eye was murderous. Robin's sharp eyes noted the subtle stiffening of the Sheriff's jaw, and he saw the flash of silver among the black folds of his robes. Much, merry with his jest and feeling secure with his leader behind him, moved toward the Sheriff with his cap outstretched.

Even Robin, who had seen his enemy's speed before, was stunned by the reflexes the Sheriff displayed as he seized Much around the neck and laid a dagger against his throat. There was no time for Much to yell. Will tried to push himself to his feet, but Robin moved before he could do anything.

A second later, the still morning air was pierced by a horrible scream. Blood splattered the dry leaves. Much, wide-eyed, scrambled away from the Sheriff, who had dropped to one knee in agony. An arrow stuck fast in his right shoulder and scarlet blood blossomed over his black robes. Robin jumped down onto the patch and moved purposefully toward his fallen enemy.

"I am Robin Hood, Sheriff, and the next time you lay a hand on any of my men, my arrow will find your heart." Panting, Giles raised his head.

"Show me your face, coward," he wheezed, one shaking hand gripping the arrow embedded in his shoulder. Robin, who had not removed his hood, shook his head.

"This is my domain and I do not take orders from you. Now get back in your carriage and see to that arm." He turned away, but Giles spat after him.

"You don't give a damn about my arm, Hood! You hope that I die here on the road." Slowly, Robin turned, his bow clenched in his fist.

"If I aimed to kill, you would already be dead." Giles swore fiercely and shoved himself to his feet. The carriage door slammed shut behind him and the coachman whipped the horses into a gallop. Robin smiled and stepped into the shadow of the trees before Giles could catch another glimpse of him.

"Why didn't you take his gold," said Will angrily, climbing down from their hiding place in the small rise over the road. Robin put an arm around his shoulder with a proud smile on his face and gestured across the road to where Much was walking toward them. "If it's gold you want, you'd best see Much. It appears he found the Sheriff to be very charitable to our cause, eh Much?" Beaming, Much held up the brown leather pouch he'd pilfered from the Sheriff's belt. Turning it upside-down he poured a shower of gold coins into Robin's outstretched hand. Will looked between them with his mouth open in disbelief. Robin laughed.

There was much feasting in Sherwood that night. Robin was more than willing to recount his humiliation of the Sheriff to anyone who wished to hear it and Much became the hero of the day for his daring theft. As a special reward, he was served first at dinner by Robin himself. The men considered this the highest of honors and Much accepted his plate with a wide smile that looked capable of cracking his cheeks.

"Now don't let this go to your head," Robin warned with some semblance of seriousness. "You nearly lost it today. Don't underestimate the Sheriff." Loud barks of laughter greeted these words and Much's face colored.

"Well you sure showed him, didn't you, Robin?" he laughed, tearing into the leg of venison on his plate. Robin smiled in return, but the smile did not quite meet his eyes. He left Much to his victory dinner and withdrew to a far corner of the clearing where Little John sat leaning against a tree.

"Something troubling you, Robin?" Little John asked. Robin's plate sat all but forgotten in his lap as he stared pensively over at Much.

"No John," he said quietly. Little John nodded wordlessly, but he turned more fully toward Robin awaiting a proper answer.

"Could it be you are jealous of young Much tonight? Perhaps you think he will turn into a better outlaw than even the legendary Robin Hood." Robins eyes darkened while his face remained impassive. Little John sighed and set aside his finished plate. Anyone who troubled to look beyond Robin's carefree exterior could see the worries that plagued his every thought.

"I worry for him. He almost died today and see how quickly he's forgotten. He's not the only one."

"If you hadn't shot that arrow someone else would have. That's your doing. You gave these men a sense of brotherhood few of them have ever known. You gave laws back to the lawless and made them feel as though they could change things. Every man here owes you something and they trust you with all their hearts." Instead of lightening Robin's mood this only served to dampen his spirits further.

"And what have I done with their trust? I've made certain none of them can ever go back to being free men. The Sheriff will haunt us the rest of his days or until he sees each and every last one of us hanged. And for what? So a young boy can avenge a father he hardly knew? John, I've led us all to ruin."

Little John threw back his head with a mighty laugh that begged Robin to join in. From the fireside, several heads turned and the men grinned, raising their tankards proudly in Robin's direction.

"If this is ruin then let the whole world crumble." Little John gestured at the laughing, jesting men. Robin followed his gaze and saw a smile on every filthy face. The weight that had settled on his heart lifted a little. Little John picked up his plate again.

"These men are free. They can live whatever lives they choose and they choose to follow you, Robin Hood."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **I apologize for the double posting of Chapter 6. I've been having a little trouble with my account, but I think I've gotten it ironed out now.

* * *

Robin was as good as his word. For the rest of the winter, Marian heard nothing further concerning him. Avian lamented his disappearance as though her best friend had died. With forced sympathy, Marian endured the girl's whining, even encouraged her that he would return. With Robin Hood's disappearance, The Sheriff began to relax the guard he kept on Marian. For this, she was very grateful. Guy of Gisborn's constant appearances around corners began to make her uneasy every time she stepped down a dark corridor. And the Sheriff grew even bolder in his attempts to gain her attention. He took to presenting her with gifts, and these were not the mere trinkets a normal suitor might present. One day he forced her to accept a jewel encrusted comb to place in her hair, another he presented her with a string of pearls from Spain. Marian grew increasingly annoyed with these showy gifts because they put her in mind of what Robin Hood had told her about the real use of the heavy taxes the Sheriff collected.

As spring approached Marian began to shrug off the gloom of winter. She took pleasure in visiting the village with Avian and buying trinkets and necklaces from the local storeowners. Still, she remained watchful for a sign of Robin. Though she never recognized any of them, she knew that at least a few of Robin's men had to be wandering the streets around her, if only she knew where to look. Avian seemed to share this feeling because she took to wandering off to do some searching of her own. Marian didn't question her because she knew that, as Robin's confidante, she would be the first to know if he had returned.

As the last of the snow began to melt away in March, Marian at last shed her heavy fur cloaks. For Christmas, Giles had presented her with a thick fur mantle made of many different animal hides. Marian detested it, but she wore it because it was warmer than anything else she had. She took to going on long rides through the village on one of Giles' horses. She made a point of never venturing toward Sherwood Forest because she did not want to draw attention back to herself after she had finally been granted her freedom from Guy of Gisborn's watchful eye. Away from the prying eyes in the castle she let her long auburn hair fly free of its usual ribbons and combs and galloped across the countryside as fast as her horse would carry her.

"Milady?" said a young man, stepping forward from the crowd one day as she rode into town. Few peasants ever approached her and she looked at him hopefully, expecting to recognize him. If he was one of Robin's men, she did not know him.

"I was wondering if you know of a lady who lives up at the castle. She has curly hair and brown eyes." Marian raised an eyebrow. Her fox fur-gloved hands readjusted their grip on the reins as she tried to remain indifferent. The peasant brushed matted brown hair out of his eyes and glanced over his shoulder, uncomfortable as though someone watched him. Marian frowned and leaned forward in her saddle.

"Avian? Aye, I know her."

"Could you give her this ring? It's a token from her admirer. He says that, 'she is either a sorceress or a bandit because she has stolen the heart of a thief.' He bid me ask you to give her that message."

Suddenly the spring morning did not seem so bright. Marian looked down at the simple pewter ring she held in her hand.

"Tell me, stranger, does this admirer live in Sherwood Forest?" she asked slowly. The young man nodded vigorously. Marian's stomach did a strange flop inside her. It felt as though she had been kicked by a horse. With difficulty, she arranged her mouth into a smile.

"Aye, I will tell Lady Avian the message. Thank you." Without waiting for a response she rode past him. Her eyes remained fixed on the horn of her saddle. Mad thoughts whizzed around inside her head. With a gentle shake, she straightened and pushed them all to the back of her mind. Avian would be pleased to get the message and she should be pleased to bring her companion good news. With a small sigh, she turned her gray mare back toward the castle.

"He said that?" asked Avian excitedly once Marian had found her and given her the ring.

"Aye," Marian replied. She studied Avian carefully, taking in her round face and dark eyes, her tight curls and charming smile. Avian was beautiful in a sweet, gentle way; she was beautiful in a way Marian had never been. Not that Marian cared greatly about her appearance; she still maintained that she would rather sweep the floor with her tongue than choose a man to wed, but she did wonder as she saw the happiness on the other girl's face what it felt like to be loved. Marian left her shortly after and went down to the kitchens to speak with Lady Cecily. They had grown close over the winter.

"I hope I don't trouble you by asking if you have heard any news of your nephew," said Marian wearily as she sat down beside the elder lady. As usual, Lady Cecily sat with her maid Angelina in a corner, this time peeling potatoes. Angelina had been suffering from a nasty cold and she wore a long, wool scarf wrapped tightly around her head. She coughed and turned away, keeping her back to them for sanitation's sake. Lady Cecily glanced at her.

"You mustn't give up hope, Lady Marian. Robin would never disappoint you if he could help it. If I know him, he's just waiting for an opportunity to make a good entrance after being away so long. It would be far too simple for him to just walk in and pick up where he left off pestering travelers through Sherwood. He needs something more exciting." She studied Marian out of her gentle dark eyes. "Why do you ask?" Marian hesitated.

"He is one of the few people I feel I can be myself with. As much as I am surprised to say it, I consider him a friend." Lady Cecily continued to watch her, but she smiled a little as she continued to peel potatoes. Angelina coughed again.

"Never fear, Lady Marian, Robin Hood will return."

But Robin did not return. March slipped into April with still no sightings of him. Several times Marian was halted in the village by various young men begging her to deliver letters and gifts to Avian, but of Robin there was no sign. Marian began to resent going into the village only to be called upon to deliver yet another gift. To watch her, one would think that she had captured the heart of every young man in Nottingham; that was how often the boys tracked her down. She was ready to trample the next man who stopped her.

"Maid Marian?"

Marian whirled around in a fury.

"_What_?" she snarled as she saw a young man standing behind her with his head bowed and a feathered cap covering most of his face. Slowly, he raised his head and for a moment the sun seemed to shine through the clouds as she recognized those dark eyes, but it was a false hope, for the face before her was too young to be Robin's.

"Will Scarlett, I suppose?" she asked dully. He nodded with a grin. "What can it be this time? If _you_ have come then it must be something of dire importance." His face shone with the twinkle of his smile and Marian marked how strongly he resembled his older cousin.

"I have a message for you to deliver to—"

"Avian, I know," she finished for him. He laughed and glanced over his shoulder, as though afraid to be seen.

"Have you seen my mother recently? How is she?" he asked with genuine concern. Marian smiled.

"Your mother is content knowing you are safe in your cousin's care. How is your cousin? He hasn't been caught, has he?" she asked. Will gave her a knowing smile that made him look even more unsettlingly like his cousin. Marian blinked at the resemblance. There was more gold to Will's hair and more rose to his cheeks, but the chiseled features were disturbingly similar, so much so that Marian half expected him to throw back his head in one of those deep rich guffaws for which Robin was so famous. To Will there was more of a boyish twinkle and he gave her a lopsided grin she would never expect to see on Robin's face.

"If Rob had been caught, all of England would know it. No, he will return soon. He's getting word to all of his men for us to return to the Greenwood. He has something up his sleeve; I wish I knew what it was." Will glanced off into the distance again, pondering his cousin's plans. Marian cleared her throat.

"Your message, Will? What am I to give Avian this time?" He started with a small, shy smile.

"Ah yes, I almost forgot. Here." He handed her a rolled up piece of parchment, tied with a neat, red ribbon. "She'll know who it's from," he added with a nod. Marian glanced at the scroll in her hand, wondering what this message could say. Will cleared his throat and straightened.

"And how are you doing, Maid Marian?" he asked, obviously relieved to be free of his burden. Marian raised her moss-green eyes to his young, handsome face. It was odd how readily she accepted the title of 'Maid Marian' from Robin and his men, but it threw her into a violent rage every time she heard Guy of Gisborn utter it. As Gisborn had stopped stalking her every step, it had been a while since she last heard the name. She smiled inwardly.

"This winter has been long and dull, and I am grateful that spring has finally arrived. I have been involved in the May Day preparations this year and according to the Sheriff it should be a grand occasion. Is there any chance that I might see you there, or is it too dangerous?" Will's eyes twinkled.

"No, it's not too dangerous. With so many people, it's no great thing to walk about without fear of the Sheriff's knowledge. I have learned a thing or two about discretion from my cousin." She looked him up and down for a moment and saw that he wore a tunic of wine colored fabric. His cloak was scarlet and his hat was crimson, topped with a large, red feather. Marian's eyebrow arched before she could stop herself. That was Will's idea of discretion? He saw her expression and smiled again, revealing a hint of dimples in his cheeks.

"Don't look like that, Maid Marian; it's my _disguise_. Today I am a nobleman going into the village to purchase some wares for my manor. Why should I not look the part? The Sheriff has no reason to suspect I am here, and therefore he would not look twice at me."

"Except that you are remarkably like your cousin in appearance. Should he happen to spot you, he might arrest you thinking you are Robin and then realize that you are one of the Locksley boys that he tried and failed to dispose of. I caution you," she said seriously, taking in his bright appearance again. Will shook his head with certainty. Arrogance and self-satisfaction seemed to be traits he also shared with Robin.

"The Sheriff would never look for one of Robin Hood's men dressed so. He expects us to be common men and he could never dream how often we walk about under his very nose parading who we are for all to see. Robin has even dressed as a servant within his castle and served the Sheriff wine. I believe that was on Christmas Eve. Did you not recognize him? He said that you received a lovely robe as a gift from the Sheriff." Marian's mouth fell open. Robin Hood had been inside the castle? Will laughed at her surprise.

"He told you he would ensure that your safety continued even while he was supposed to be gone. He stayed to watch over things and actually spent most of the winter working as a servant in the kitchens. Are you sure you didn't recognize him?"

"No, I had no idea," she said in a faint voice. She felt her face begin to redden as a troubling thought surfaced in her brain. If Robin had spent the winter in the castle then no doubt he had taken the opportunity to make a fool of her. He had probably spoken to her and she never knew it. If he mocked her for it she would never forgive him. It seemed the very thing he would do. Nevertheless, she had to marvel at his skill at disguising himself if he could spend four months living under his enemy's nose and remain undetected by even his allies. Then Marian reached another thought.

"Your mother knew of this, didn't she?" she asked suspiciously. Will laughed his boyish laugh.

"Starting to recognize his ways are you? Actually, Rob disguised himself as Angelina on a few occasions. He said you were a wonderful conversationalist. It helped him pass the idle hours of the winter listening to you and my gossiping about him." As Marian heard this mortifying truth she recalled the occasions when Angelina had seemed most quiet. Marian normally took little notice of Angelina because she never raised her head from her work. It dawned on her how often the old woman claimed to be sick and found excuses to withdraw from Lady Cecily's side.

She would kill Robin Hood for laughing at her so! She wondered what sort of revealing things he had learned about her through this trick. Marian pursed her lips together and lowered her head, plotting how best to make him pay for his deceit. Will reached forward and brushed a lock of her dark, auburn hair away from her face with a surprisingly gentle hand.

"Don't be so hard on him, Maid Marian, there are few ladies he would go through such trouble for. He did it to keep you safe you know. When the Sheriff sent his men to watch your every move, Robin gave them false reports to get them off your trail. He is a good man and he would die before he broke an oath." She nodded, gazing into Will's gentle face. Robin was lucky his cousin was more persuasive and sincere than he was, because listening to Will's gentle defense, Marian could not help but let her anger go.

"Well, I had better return to the castle and deliver your message," she said abruptly with a deep sigh. She could have stood talking to Will Scarlett all afternoon, but she was needed to help with the May Day preparations. Will nodded and stepped away from her with a graceful bow. It reminded her that before his life as an outlaw he had grown up a nobleman's son and the realization made his attire seem less outlandish. He kissed her hand and bade her good day before disappearing almost magically into the crowd. Marian would not have thought it possible that someone dressed so brightly could make such a swift disappearance, but Will did have the same blood in him that Robin did, and Robin was well-known for coming and going with the ease of a ghost. Shaking her head with a small smile at what she had learned from her conversation, she made her way through the crowd and back up to the castle, stopping to purchase the ribbons for the maypole she had been sent into the village to buy.

When she returned, a large woman dressed in azure satin met her in the Entrance Hall. Her name was Elizabeth Beaumont, and Giles had placed her in charge of the decorating committee for the May Day celebration. She was a wealthy duchess from a neighboring province well-known for throwing some of the most lavish parties and she had eagerly decided that this year's celebration would be the most talked about event of the year. She and Marian had not gotten along at all since Elizabeth arrived.

"Lady Fitzgerald, what took you so long?" she demanded, snatching the basket of ribbons from Marian's hand. Marian glared at her, sending her a look that would have caused any man to tremble at her feet. Elizabeth Beaumont drew back at the severity of Marian's stare, but she quickly armed herself in a show of affront.

"Heavens, child, you will never win a husband if you continue to look like that. I'm sure at your age you have enough trouble enticing a man."

"Where is Lady Avian?" Marian asked coldly, holding up a hand to silence her. Marian was not one to put up with overly dramatic public displays, and she decided to put an end to this one before it got out of hand. Sticking her nose in the air, Lady Elizabeth waved her hand vaguely at a doorway behind her.

"Lady Avian is helping to make the dress for the May Queen. She has been ever so polite and gracious by assisting me. Her embroidery is the finest I have seen in a long time. Perhaps she could give you some lessons." Marian ignored the slight on her embroidery skills, and she turned her back on Lady Elizabeth without another glance. She went into the room indicated and found Avian and two other women working on a gown of white and gold. Avian was busy embroidering violets along the hem while the two other ladies attached the train to the shoulders. Marian stopped when she saw it, admiring the fashion of the gown with its full skirt and trailing sleeves. This year's May Queen would be honored to wear such a gown and she wondered what would become of it once the celebration was over.

Avian looked up when she entered and her face brightened at once.

"Hello Marian, how does it look?" she asked, sitting back on her knees to admire her handiwork. Marian nodded with approval.

"It's beautiful, Avian, but I don't suppose you could spare a moment or two; I have _something to give you_." She put emphasis on the last part of her sentence. Avian's doe eyes swept her face and at once she stood up. Marian drew her to the corner away from the other ladies and slipped the scroll of paper into Avian's pale hands. Avian tore the ribbon loose and unrolled the message eagerly. Unable to help herself, Marian looked over the girl's shoulder to see what the letter contained. It read:

Dearest Avian,

Since the moment I first laid eyes upon your fair face I have loved you. These long winter months it is your image that has kept me warm. If I were not a lowly outlaw then I would marry you this very hour. One day, I will clear my name and come to claim your hand if you will wait for me. I swear that I will always be true, my dove. Say you will be my bride and you will make me the happiest man in all England. I await your answer at the May Day celebration. I love you with all my soul and pray that you can find it in your tender heart to return my love.

Avian held the letter to her chest, closing her eyes in rapture. Marian could see plainly what her response was and the knowledge filled her heart with lead. Avian appeared transformed before her eyes into a beautiful, radiant angel. Her face glowed with happiness and it would bring a twinkle to even the grimmest face to see her standing there in her spring green gown. However, Marian could barely muster a smile for her friend.

"You'd better get to work finishing that gown," she said quietly. "The sooner it is finished the sooner you can daydream about your love." Avian nodded absentmindedly, going back to her work in a daze. Marian left the room, unable to be near her. She went to find Lady Elizabeth to see what work could be found for her.

The days leading up to the May Day celebration became less fun after that. Marian avoided Avian as much as possible, unable to stomach the euphoria that made the other girl prattle on. In her heart, Marian knew that it was wrong of her to act the way she was, but she couldn't help it. The evening before May Day, she and Avian sat side-by-side in the Great Hall at dinner. Rather than speak to Avian, Marian turned her attention to Giles who was seated to her right. Avian did not appear to notice and Giles seemed flattered by the attention. Taking it for a sign that she was at last returning the affection he had shown her all winter, he took the liberty of taking her hand briefly before getting to his feet.

"I think it is time we elect a queen for tomorrow's celebration," he said. "I know it is custom to let the peasants decide, but after seeing the splendid work that you have done on the gown, Lady Elizabeth, I would not dream of soiling it on some common cow."

"I quite agree," said Lady Elizabeth, dressed in a gown of pale yellow embroidered with tiny blue flowers. "I say it should belong to one of the lovely ladies of your court, Sir Giles." She sent him a simpering look and Marian smirked into her goblet of wine. If Lady Elizabeth thought she could squeeze her thick body into the slim gown without tearing the laces she was rudely mistaken.

"I quite agree," mimicked Giles, sending her a wolfish smile. "We are fortunate enough to have some of the finest ladies in England among us here in Nottingham. I say the crown should go to the loveliest among them." The men along the table beat their fists on the wood to show their approval. Marian glanced at Avian, who had not lost her angelic appearance since first reading Robin's letter and there could be no doubt that she was the loveliest lady of all in that room. From the knowing glance she exchanged with her father, she thought so too. Lord Geoffrey patted her head fondly.

"I think we can be in agreement that Lady Marian should wear the crown," said Giles, beaming down at her with his serpentine smile. Those coal-black eyes burned into her, causing her to feel unendurably naked before him. He reached for her hand and drew her to her feet beside him, his other hand wound behind her in a touch that was hardly informal.

Marian looked around in amazement. Beside her, Avian froze, her smile suddenly wooden. Marian did not dare look at her. She could tell from the sudden chill to her left that Avian did not like this decision at all.

"Well, Marian?" asked Giles in her ear when she did not say anything. Marian was too stunned to speak.

"Sire," said Avian unexpectedly. "Since I made the gown, would it not be more fitting for me to wear it? I would be most honored."

Marian winced, hearing the desperation in the girl's voice. Of course Avian wanted to wear the gown. She intended to give Robin the answer to his proposal and how fitting would it be for her to appear as lovely as the queen of spring granting her hand to the lord of the wood. What a fine spectacle they would make together. Giles shook his head at Avian's request, his dark eyes still gazing at Marian as though she were a made of precious jewels.

"No, I will have none but Lady Marian. If it is that important to you, Lady Avian, you may be a member of her court," he offered, flicking a cruel glance out of the corner of his eye. Marian scowled and pulled away from him. She turned to her friend with apology in her eyes and on her tongue, but the look on the girl's face stopped her. Avian's eyes widened in hurt astonishment before filling with sorrow. Without another word, she rose from her seat and fled the room in tears. Sir Geoffrey, who had drunk too much ale, had not been paying attention to his daughter's humiliation, and he looked after her departure with mild bewilderment.

"That was rather unnecessary, wasn't it?" asked Marian coldly, ignoring the rest of the landed gentry in the room as she glared at the Sheriff of Nottingham. Giles shrugged, sliding his arm around her waist as he presented her to the hall. Marian shrank away from him. His breath blew hot and foul on her cheek as he spoke into her ear.

"After the money and time spent on this occasion I would not soil the day by crowning a woman unworthy of the title." He tightened his grip and placed his hot, wet lips to the tender white flesh of her neck. Marian whirled on him but he merely turned to Sir Geoffrey, ignoring her wrath. "Sir Geoffrey, your daughter will make a lovely lady-in-waiting, however you should caution her about her eating habits before it spoils her appeal." His cruelty was revolting. Sir Geoffrey was too drunk to fully hear and comprehend the words, but Marian glowered. Giles drew her closer once more, ignoring the eyes around them. He caught her wrist and pulled her close so that they were almost nose to nose.

"You will be crowned May Queen and that is the final word on the subject. Your maid will dress you in the morning." He sat back down and continued enjoying his roast boar. Marian remained standing, consumed by fury, humiliation and a strange sense of fear for the man who had only seconds before had taken liberties no man had ever dared. Though Robin had stolen his kiss it had been chaste. At the time she had been scandalized by the press of his mouth upon hers, it was nothing to slither of Giles' tongue across her skin. Her warrior instincts demanded that she challenge him for his brazen behavior, but in reality she could say nothing; all she could do was ask Sir Geoffrey to extend her most humble apology to his daughter.

The next day dawned clear and blue as a robin's egg. Marian was bathed and dressed in the breathtaking white and gold gown Avian had worked so hard to complete. Lucy dressed her auburn waves with tiny diamond pins in the shape of flowers. She set the ruby encrusted circlet upon her head with great reverence. The crown was woven in the design of a garland of flowers, and the craftsmanship was unparalleled. Lucy stepped back in awe at the vision she had helped create, tears of joy shining in her eyes as though Marian were a blushing bride. She turned Marian to face the mirror in the corner of the room and even Marian, who was still furious over being forced to wear the gown, felt her breath catch in her throat. She looked beautiful.

She spent the morning seated on a dais shrouded in white silk drapes to hide her from view until her crowning could be announced. She could see nothing of the field, but she knew from having seen it the previous evening that bright tents were everywhere, garlands of flowers stretched all across the field, and flower petals littered the path that she would walk toward the 'royal box' to preside over the archery tournament. Her job was to present the winner of the archery tournament with an arrow made of solid gold. The Sheriff had spared no expense on this day, and it showed. She wished she could see the people though; she wished she could see how amazed they were by the richness and grandeur of the field. She wished she could see what they thought of the lavishness their taxes had bought.

At long last, the trumpets blared and she heard Giles announce that the May Queen had arrived. Two servants parted the white curtains to reveal her to the crowd. A collective gasp went up as Marian stepped into the warm spring sunlight. As expected, everyone in the crowd went onto one knee to acknowledge her as their queen, but there was something in the reverence on their faces that touched her. Her green eyes scanned the crowd as she searched for Will Scarlett's face or that of Robin Hood or any of the other men of his band. They were not to be found, but of course that did not mean they were not among the many people kneeling before her. She smiled and played her part to the best of her abilities, enjoying the attention for the delight it brought the heart-heavy people before her. The crowd applauded as she seated herself on the velvet-cushioned chair that was meant to be her throne.

"Is she not the loveliest queen to ever preside over a May Day?" asked Giles, following her to the royal box to sit in the seat designated for the 'King'. He took Marian's hand and drew it to his lips with wolfish delight, reminding her with a swift glance of his cold eyes of the lengths he had gone the night before. She forced her face to remain in a smile and tried to return the look of adoration he sent her. He laid his gloved hand on her forearm and stroked her arm gently, enjoying the tension that came over her face as she fought to remain composed. His lip curled and he turned back to the crowd. "The winner of this year's archery tournament may claim not only the golden arrow but a kiss from Lady Marian's fair lips, a prize any man would desire." Marian froze. She did not wish to kiss a stranger in front of all these people. Giles seated himself beside her and she sent him a furious glare from beneath her lowered lashes.

"With such a prize it should make the competition that much more fierce. I regret that I can not partake in the tournament myself, yet a gracious queen will surely reward her adoring lord once this day is over," he insinuated, once again stroking her arm. She sent him a look of green poison and pulled her arm safely out of his reach. She stood up to address the archers.

"Let the archery tournament begin!" The Sheriff beamed at her and tried to catch her hand before she could snatch it away but she pointedly returned it to her lap as she seated herself. He merely smiled, a dangerous smile that revealed his yellowing teeth.

The archers of Nottingham were talented bowmen and the competition was close for the most part. Marian studied their faces closely, but could recognize none. No doubt the Merry Men were among the archers for they were said to be some of the best archers of all, having proved themselves to Robin Hood's standards. The competition remained close and the crowd shouted and cheered for their favorite picks, or booed the men that they hoped would not win. Marian smiled as she heard half the crowd cheer when Guy of Gisborn missed the center by a hand's breadth, which knocked him out of the competition when the two men on either side of him found the center on their targets. His dark features went darker still as the crowd mocked his elimination.

With each round, the targets were moved further away, adding to the difficulty. As the field began to clear and the best marksmen were left, Marian's eyes became consistently drawn to the man nearest her. He wore a green cap topped with a plumed feather and was dressed in the garb of a nobleman, but the way he handled his bow was miraculous. He fired rapidly, yet his arrow never missed the center of his target. The men around him took careful aim, yet he shot as though he and the bow were one. His face was dark, as though he had lived his entire life under the sun, and he wore a thick, brown beard.

"He is a fine marksman," murmured Giles beside her, following the progress of the stranger. "I've never seen a man so skilled." The words sent a blade of fear straight through Marian's heart. There could only be one man who could merit such praise from Giles of Northwood, and the longer she studied him the more she recognized those dark eyes and the fluidity of those movements. Robin Hood had entered the tournament.

It came down to two men, Robin and a villager from Nottingham. Marian closed her eyes in a grimace as she suddenly noticed the attire of Robin's opponent. Though it was the humble garb of a peasant, the young man's clothes were all dyed a variation of red. He too wore a thick beard, but now that she saw him, Marian could not mistake Will Scarlett. She wanted to close her eyes and hide, because surely it could not end well to have both of them parading in front of Giles so proudly. Although it had worked in the past, Giles of Northwood was no fool. One look at his face told Marian that he also guessed what was going on. He eyes were fixed on Robin with a gleam of hunger.

Will fired first, his shot landing within the smallest inner circle. Robin followed that by a shot that struck a hair closer to the middle. The crowd roared its approval, on its feet as they screamed for a winner. The arrows were removed and the targets placed a further distance away, now almost a hundred paces away. Finally, on the fifth shot, Will struck dead center. Marian's eyebrows rose. Robin could not best a shot that was dead center. To her knowledge, this was the first time he had been publicly beaten in an archery contest. However, he did not seem rattled by the knowledge. For the first time since the competition began, he took his time in shooting. Marian admired the way he seemed to shut out the world as he focused upon his target. For a man known for his recklessness, it was odd to see him concentrate so fully. He took a deep breath and fired.

The crowd gasped.

Robin Hood's arrow had split Will's in half, striking the center of the target with a resounding _thunk_. He had won. With a slow, ready smile, he stepped back to admire his shot. Beside him, Will's mouth hung open in shock. Robin glanced at him and punched him lightly in the shoulder. Giles stood up and clapped slowly, encouraging the crowd to follow suit. The applause that exploded from the people of Nottingham might have been heard in every corner of England. Never in anyone's memory had an archery tournament been won by such a perfect shot.

"Come forward archer, come forward," called Giles, smiling in a welcome fashion. Marian knew by the gleam in his eye that Robin was walking into a trap. Robin made a bow to the crowd and began approaching the platform to receive his prize. Marian's heartbeat doubled with fear. The clodpoll didn't realize he was walking right into the hangman's noose. Before Giles could say anything, she stood up as well, holding out the velvet cushion with another false smile on her face.

"Congratulations," she said brightly, cutting across Giles. "It is an honor to be in the presence of an archer of such skill. Good sir, pray tell us your name." Giles glanced at her in surprise, but Marian stepped past him, still holding out the royal purple pillow with the golden arrow laid across it. She stopped at the top of the steps leading up to the dais, blocking Giles' path down in case he tried to get to Robin. Robin looked up at her and beamed, going onto one knee with agile grace.

"Rufus Hurst is my name, fair Queen. I thank you for your praise and I am honored to be in the presence of so fine a lady." Marian narrowed her eyes slightly, trying to warn him how perilous the situation was while he jested with her. He merely smiled in return. She clenched her teeth.

"Then I present you, Rufus Hurst, with this golden arrow and the gratitude of Nottingham that you have honored us with your presence in this archery tournament in the celebration of May Day." She held out the velvet pillow to him, which he took with another gracious bow. She expected him to leave, but he merely watched her face, still smiling that galling smile of his.

"Forgive me, my queen, but is not the other half of the prize a kiss from your fair lips?" Marian's face went white. _No. _She would not kiss Robert of Huntington here before all these people. The very idea revolted her to the pit of her stomach. She looked up, wishing for an escape, but the people merely watched with eager eyes. Robin smirked, enjoying her hesitation. There was something in that cocky smile of his that stiffened her will. He enjoyed her discomfort too much and for that she would shake his certainty by playing along. No doubt he did not wish to kiss her any more than she desired to kiss him. It was all part of his game.

"Of course," she muttered. "I had almost forgotten." She leaned forward and angled her face to peck him on the cheek, but Robin would have none of that. When she was near enough, he seized her around the waist and crushed her to him, kissing her long and hard on the mouth. Marian staggered on the step, but he only used the opportunity to pull her closer into his arms. Fire blazed in her face and anger erupted inside her. Finally he let her go. The crowd loved it, laughing as if it were the funniest thing they had ever seen. Marian blushed as red as her hair, looking around at all the people pointing and laughing at her.

"A worthy prize," said Robin quietly, so that only she could hear. She glowered at him, ready to plunge the golden arrow through his heart. Let the Sheriff have him; he deserved it.

"_Hang you, Robin_," She hissed under her breath. He shrugged and began to step back from the dais. Giles stepped forward, shoving Marian aside roughly.

"Wait a moment, archer. Step forward once more."

"I don't think I will, Sheriff," said Robin, looking up with cunning in his face. Before the guards who had been subtly closing ranks around the table could completely close the circle, Robin turned and fled into the crowd, taking the golden arrow with him. Giles roared for his men, but Marian knew it was no use. If Robin did not wish to be found not even the best bloodhound on earth could track him.

"It's time for the maypole activities!" cried Lady Elizabeth cheerfully. She had been seated to Giles' other side and was completely oblivious to what had just taken place in front of her. She was enjoying herself immensely and seemed particularly happy to take note of the embarrassment that still colored Marian's cheeks. "Perhaps one of the lucky men among you will be fortunate enough to become intertwined with the May Queen and may claim a kiss of your own." Marian wiped the back of her hand across her mouth.

She took her place at the maypole, taking a long, pink ribbon on the inner circle. She looked around at the men assembled around her and felt her spirits sink further. Now she recognized them. There was Little John, Alan a Dale, Will Scarlett, Much, and the others. They grinned at her, though Little John's smile was more sincere than mocking. It was an enormous circle and she could not see all of them, but she knew enough to know that she would end up with a member of the Merry Men. What had she done to deserve such scorn?

The dance began and Marian followed, keeping her head down for fear of seeing whom she would have to kiss next. The girls around her laughed and giggled as they became intertwined with one man, only to turn him loose and receive another. Marian glanced up at the top of the pole to see how much longer before she was called upon to humiliate herself again. There were only a few more twists now. She sighed and put her head back down. At last, they made their final spin and reached their final partner. Marian's lowered eyes fell on a pair of muddy boots.

"How is it that I am so lucky as to be granted _two_ kisses from you today, Marian?" asked a horribly familiar voice. Marian's head came up sharply and she was astonished by the transformation that had taken place. Robin had changed disguises. He now looked more like he had before the winter with his beardless face and short, chestnut hair. He smiled at her, taking her hand in his. Around them, the other couples were kissing their partners in earnest, but Robin and Marian hung back.

"Did I offend you earlier?" asked Robin quietly. "I only meant it as a bit of fun."

"Yes, you did offend me!" she said sharply. "I looked like a fool! Why do you wish to embarrass me so much? Have I not done everything you have asked of me? I helped you and _that_ was my reward?" He blinked.

"My most humble apologies; it was not my wish to embarrass you. It was only a bit of fun."

"Fun at my expense! I hope you enjoyed yourself."

"Actually…" he said with an honest smile. "I have been waiting for such an opportunity for months now." She blinked, stunned, and then narrowed her eyes.

"What about Avian?" she demanded. "She has been glowing since she received your note two weeks ago. She loves you with all her heart. How will she feel once she realizes that it was only a jest? Or how am I to know that you speak the truth now? _What_?" she added, catching his confused expression. Robin narrowed his eyes, cocking his head at her much like the bird after which he had named himself.

"My letter? I never wrote to Avian," he said slowly. "If Lady Avian cares anything for me then it is through no fault of my own. I have not spoken to her since last December. Did she _say_ the letter came from me?" Marian realized her mistake and though she remained unmoving, felt her mind and soul recoil from him in shame. She had made a humiliating mistake. He continued to squint at her, confused and intrigued. "I prithee, tell me if she has said the letter came from me for I will have hell to pay from Will if he hears that I confessed my love through a letter when it was I who advised _him_ to do just that. In fact, he told me he handed _you_ a letter for Avian not long ago. He spoke to you a few weeks past, did he not?" Marian closed her eyes, braced for his taunts. He knew she had made a mistake and he would not let her forget it either; she knew that from the way he grinned at her. "Ah, dear little Marian, is that why you have been avoiding Avian? I wondered why I no longer saw you together. You thought I was in love with her."

"I was not jealous," she declared proudly. "I avoided her because I couldn't stomach her descriptions of you that are only half true and half-formed in her head." He nodded.

"Then let me put your worries to rest. No, I never loved Lady Avian, nor felt anything more than passing fancy for her. She is too young and simple for my tastes. My cousin Will is more suited for her than I. He and I were in the village one day and spotted the two of you walking. I tried to pass on your good advice to him, but he's a bit stubborn when he sets his mind to things. I suspect it might run in the family." Marian nodded distantly. She glanced around at all the couples still kissing around the maypole. She had no desire to repeat the embarrassing act of earlier and she slowly stepped out of reach from Robin's long arms.

"Well, I'm glad to know that my good advice did not go to waste. Will is far less dangerous than you. If he should ever manage to clear his name then they will make a wonderful couple. Good day Robin." She turned to go but he caught her arm with a swift movement.

"Is kissing me that bad then?" he asked quietly. She turned to look over her shoulder at him, at the well-defined angles and lines etched from happiness and sorrow. There was no denying he was a handsome man, but he was a dangerous man and an outlaw besides.

"You have made a fool of me once, do not do it again." He shrugged and tried to pull her closer anyway. Over the course of the winter he must have forgotten how strong she really was. She pulled her arm away from him and sent him a level stare that did not invite further persuasion.

"Good day, Robin Hood," she said in a low voice. With that, Robin had no choice but to watch her walk away.

Robin saw her walking back across the field. She did look lovely there in the May sunlight with her long white and gold gown trailing behind her over the bright green grass. She was everything a May Queen should be and more, for he had never beheld a more beautiful sight than Marian dressed like a princess with her long, dark hair streaming down her back. His stay at the castle during the winter had allowed him to observe her more closely and he saw—when she was not around him—that she was a most gentle and kind lady. He witnessed those nights when she would sneak down to the stables dressed as a lad and practice her swordplay in the dim light of the candles. She was like a goddess, beautiful as fair Venus of Rome, yet dangerous as the Night Queen Diana.

It had been hard to get the Sheriff off her scent but Robin had done it through sheer perseverance. Letters, rumors, whispers in the dark had all been employed to convince the Sheriff that Marian Fitzgerald had no connection to Robin Hood other than as one of his hostages one evening in December.

But the winter months had not only been about helping Marian stay out from under Giles' watchful eye, Robin had also used the opportunity to find as much information as he could from Aunt Cecily what had truly happened to his mother. The story that she had tried several times to break free from Giles had been true. He had locked her up in one of the towers of Huntington castle, but when the servants took pity on her and tried to help her escape, he had been forced to take even more drastic measures. Unfortunately, Aunt Cecily had not been able to uncover exactly what had transpired between them, only that Charity had eventually been cast out.

"Eh Rob, it seems you had no further luck with Maid Marian tonight," called Little John from a few ribbons away on the maypole circle. He stood with a stout woman from the village by the name of Tess. Though she was no beauty, she and Little John made a unique and oddly compatible couple. She was just as fierce as he was and she never quailed in front of him. She had a temper of her own, and when she went into one of her rages Little John could do nothing but agree with her on whatever it was she wanted him to do.

"She's a hardheaded woman, John. She'd rather sleep on a bed of nails than admit how much she fancies me. I'll win her heart yet though, mark my words."

"Aye Robin, if that is what you think," Little John laughed, returning his attention to the woman in his arms. Robin watched them for a moment, wishing that Marian had been half as eager as Tess to have a kiss from him. He did not know when it had happened, and God knows he had spent all winter trying to deny I, he loved her as he had never loved another woman before. Certainly there were plenty of other women in Nottingham willing to have him, but no woman he had ever met before could stir him the way Marian did. Her strength and courage seemed endless, and for some odd reason he even liked that she did not simply fall into his arms. Abandoning his place at the maypole, he walked away with his head bent in thought.

Robin had planned this excursion with care. He had brought spare robes knowing that once Giles recognized him in the guise of 'Rufus Hurst' he would be free to walk about as Robin Hood later on. No one would look for him in his true uniform once they saw him dressed as a nobleman only hours before. He felt free to walk about as he pleased. His arrows were left in the alley with Rufus' disguise and in a crowd of villagers, who would think to look twice at him? Robin Hood had not been seen in Nottingham since December and it was now May.

Despite his constant reassurances that he was safe, he did not feel safe. Giles had recognized him. Although he was still searching for Rufus Hurst, Giles was not as simple as Robin often claimed. Robin glanced around warily. His Merry Men had dressed in the ordinary clothes, and those of them who were not distinguishable by any traits had no problem blending in with the rest of the crowd. Much and Little John were well-known by the Sheriff, but Much had camped out behind a pie stand and Little John and Tess were more than happy to leave the fair grounds.

"You know, he almost had me fooled," said a deep voice from just ahead of him. Robin's ears picked up the sound of Guy of Gisborn's nasally voice. He looked up sharply and crouched behind a barrel of apple cider to see who he was talking to. Standing a little ways away were Guy and Giles. They appeared to be deep in conversation. Guy dressed in the traditional garment of one of the Sheriff's men, but Giles wore his usual raiment of solid black tunic with black boots and trailing black cape. His hunting knife was in his hand as he watched the sunlight dance along the blade.

"I barely recognized him in that disguise," Gisborn continued. "He is a clever one."

"Yes, and a thorn in my side. I've had enough of his trouble. I will have his head on a pike if it's the last thing I ever do. I will make him suffer as he has made me suffer. When I am finished with him, his body won't be fit for burial," Giles snarled, snapping his knife back into its silver sheath.

"But how will you catch him? He has outsmarted you thus far," said Gisborn, folding his arms pensively. Robin smirked.

"He thinks he is cleverer than he really is. In fact, he thinks that I am unaware that he is here at all. How stunned he will be when my guards spring their trap."

Just then, the hairs on the back of Robin's neck stood on end. He whirled around as a dark shadow fell over him. Two guards stood behind him. Because of the hundreds of people moving about the field, Robin had not noticed their approach. His heart leapt into his throat, but he was on his feet at once. The guards dove at him and he ducked aside. He ran, fumbling anxiously for the golden horn belted at his side. The guards gave a shout and out of nowhere, more guards appeared. How had they found him?

Robin blew three loud blasts on the golden horn, calling his Merry Men to his aid. But it was too late. Five guards surrounded him and as he skidded to a stop, two tackled him from behind. His knees buckled and he hit the dirt face first. They wrestled him into the mud. Robin fought with all he had, but he was outnumbered too greatly. They dragged him upright and forced his hands behind his back. A heavy fist smashed into his nose and he felt it shatter with a loud crunch. Blood spurted onto the guard's tunic. The crowd gasped as they saw what was going on. Robin could not fight them off, and as the blood streamed from his broken nose he began to sway. Someone bashed him on the back of the head and blood trickled down his neck in a bright burst of pain. They tied him to the pole of a tent, still punching him with gauntlet-clad fists. In the distance, Robin saw Giles and Guy starting toward him, smiling between themselves. One of his ribs cracked as a shaft of wood broke against his side. Someone wrenched his arm behind him with merciless force until the shoulder all but ripped from its socket.

"Enough!" shouted Giles, stepping in at last. Robin hung limply against the ropes. The blood from his nose and eyes stained the front of his robes. The pain in his arm was so intense it was blinding. Blood soaked through his tunic, caking it thick and dark.

"I have you at last, Robin Hood," said Giles, stepping toward him. He drew back his fist and cuffed Robin across the face with all his might. Robin's head snapped back with a splatter of fresh blood and a groan wrenched from deep inside him. Dragging in his breath in a shaky gasp, he lifted his eyes to meet his enemy's.

"Hello stepfather," he wheezed as flecks of blood spattered his lips. Giles punched him across the temple and in an explosion of lacerating agony, Robin's world disintegrated.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** Thank you, Elizabeth-nightwatchman for your reviews. They really mean a lot and encourage me to keep posting. This next chapter gets a little dark. Fair warning.

* * *

Robin groaned. Consciousness came back slowly, along with an acute awareness of where he was and how he had gotten there. A shiver rattled through him as an icy draft swept the cell. His wrists were shackled above his head so that his toes just barely grazed the floor. His right arm felt ready to snap from his shoulder, and he sank his teeth into his lower lip to hold back a roar of pain as a slight movement wrenched it further. He could not alert whoever might be watching that he was awake. They would return soon enough, and he needed time to assess his surroundings for weaknesses.

With a great effort he pried open eyes that were caked with blood and sweat. For a moment he feared they had blinded him for he could not see even his nose in the darkness, but slowly he picked out the faint outlines of his grilled door. A heavy iron padlock ensured he would not slip away easily.

His breath whistled shakily through his teeth and rattled in his chest with each puff of air. The dungeon air was so thick it suffocated him. He needed the fresh air of Sherwood with its rich soil and fresh rain scent. Here the only smells he could discern inspired images of things he felt best left unacknowledged.

A door slammed somewhere close by and Robin's heart thumped in his chest. Desperately he closed his eyes and strained to hang as limply as possible, ignoring the grinding pain in his shoulder as he swayed slightly. Heavy footsteps marched nearer and Robin felt his blood chill in his veins. Metal keys jangled together just outside his cell and a moment later the heavy door swung open with an ominous creak before slamming shut.

"Don't play games with me, Hood. I know you are awake," said Giles smugly. Cursing himself, Robin raised his head defiantly. His dark eyes met Giles' black ones and he felt consumed by such a rage that he wondered that it did not burst forth from his chest and devour his stepfather where he stood.

"Thought you were clever, didn't you?" Giles breathed. "Thought I'd never find you once you changed out of that ridiculous disguise? Ironic isn't it that I should capture you today of all days, when four years ago was when I first put a price on your head." Robin said nothing. He didn't trust himself to speak. "The people cheered for you today, like they always do whenever you show your filthy head; but they're not cheering now." A mad gleam illuminated Giles face as he gave a sinister smile.

"Why should they? Those who cheer when the Devil wins are sent to Hell to join him," said Robin slowly, bracing himself. Giles fist struck him hard across the cheek, slamming his head against the rock wall behind him. Stars winked in front of his eyes, but Robin clenched his jaw and fought for calm.

"Do you still mourn the loss of your father, boy? Has that wound not yet healed? Believe me, there will be many more to take your mind off that one. But first, shall I tell you how Lord Roger of Huntington met his demise? You were just a boy then so I'm sure no one shared the gruesome details with you." Robin twisted in his shackles, desperate to pummel the arrogant face before him. Giles chuckled. "Lord Roger wanted a great feast for Christmas dinner, so he called for his best men to accompany him on a hunt. I rode at your father's side. As his steward I was his right hand man. He trusted me above all others."

"And you murdered him for his lands, I know," Robin growled, his restraint waning with every word.

"Your mother saw us off that morning. Very beautiful was Lady Charity. Such peerless beauty I had not seen until Lady Marian arrived here this winter. You cannot argue with that, can you? I saw how you looked at her today on the field. I suspect you would have entered that tournament if the prize was a rock so long as she was the one to present it to you, aye?" Giles sneered. "Were I in your position I would do the same, but unlike you I have no need to chase her. I command her and she obeys me."

"Get on with your story," Robin said tightly. He could not involve Marian in this. Her safety was only secure by a single strand and he would not be the one to sever it.

"As you wish. I saw Lady Charity standing on the front steps. From the moment I first saw her I knew I had to have her; Lord Roger didn't deserve such a prize. She was drawn to me, I saw it in the way she careful guarded her every action around me. That day, I could stand it no more. When we rode out, Lord Roger spurred on his horse to race ahead of the rest of us. I followed him, biding my time until the right opportunity came." Giles paused to see the effect his story had on Robin, but Robin stubbornly kept his face impassive. "He was a fine archer, your father was. No doubt that is where you got your skill with a bow, but the man was too damn naïve for his own good. He believed in the good in people and thought that all past sins could be forgiven no matter how grave. I rode by his side listening to his inane ramblings about his son and his hopes for the future. He spoke so highly of you that I conceded that when I married Charity I would send you away rather than kill you."

"That was gracious of you," Robin spat.

"Yes well, I see now what a mistake that was, but I could not risk your death so soon after your father's."

"No, naturally."

"Your father spotted a stag far off through the trees. His hounds went after it and he sent that great brown beast of his charging after them. Right as they were trying to leap a fallen branch, I shot the horse down. It broke both its front legs and rolled onto your father, crushing his chest. He called out to me for help with what little breath he had left and I obliged him, plunging my dagger straight through his heart. Of course, I had to make it look like an accident, so I later replaced my knife with a branch. No one questioned my story and we returned to Huntington. Oh how your mother wept over his body, and _I_ was the one to comfort her through the long years ahead."

"Yes, I remember how you _comforted_ her. I saw the bruises on her wrists when she came to visit me at Locksley. I recall the shadows under her eyes. You must have been a great _comfort_ to her. Then tell me, _stepfather_, if you were her light in the darkness, why did she try to run away? Why did you have to lock her up?"

"She lost her wits, poor woman. I locked her up to keep her safe from herself." Robin could tell Giles had told this story so many times he half-believed it. The story of his father's murder was accurate, it correlated with accounts he had heard from his uncle, but beyond that Robin believed nothing.

"So, all that you set out to claim for your own is now gone. You destroyed Huntington when you failed to capture me four years ago, my mother chose death rather than live as your wife, and what little power and authority you had here in Nottingham was stolen by a band of outlaws living in the woods."

Giles cuffed him so hard that Robin felt his jaw pop. Blood flooded his mouth. He coughed and spat the blood out on the floor at Giles' feet. The Sheriff stepped closer, seizing Robin by the throat with crushing force so that he choked and gasped for air.

"And for that, Robin Hood, I want you to suffer as you have made me suffer in every way imaginable."

That first night, Robin was left alone in the darkness to await whatever tortures Giles had in store for him. Fear unlike anything he had ever known flooded through him. He thought of his men alone in the woods with no one to protect them; he thought of Marian only floors above who needed him to guard her from the Sheriff. He thought of his mother, wherever she was, and wondered how she could have endured a life by Giles' side. For them he would be strong. Whether he made it out alive or not, he could not leave here without his pride. He tried not to imagine what lay in store for him. Giles had sixteen years of rage pent up inside of him. Whatever he came up with it would be designed to break Robin body and soul. Still, Robin was not prepared for what came next.

"Get in there, and be quick about it!" shouted a gruff voice, jerking Robin from his sleep, if it could be called sleep hanging by your wrists in a dungeon. His body tensed with foreboding as he heard a woman's gasp just beyond the line of his sight. Oh no, he thought desperately. Please don't let it be…

"Robert!" shrieked Aunt Cecily, flinging herself against the bars of his cell. In the light from the torch carried by the jailer he could see that her cheeks were wet with tears and her eyes swollen from crying. His heart shattered.

"Good morning, Aunt Cecily," he said in a weak semblance of his usual charm. Despite his attempt to sound strong, his voice shook. She gave a weak sob.

"Why didn't you run when you had the chance? Why couldn't you have just stayed away?" She buried her head in her hands and sank to the floor. Robin's eyes burned.

"Touching little reunion," said Giles silkily from the shadows. "I've just spent the morning informing your aunt about what your future holds. She begged to be able to see you just once before you died."

"Get her out of here," Robin ordered. "She shouldn't have to witness this after what you did to her at Locksley. You had your miscreants slay her husband before her eyes and shoot down her son like a piece of game. _I said take her away_!" To Robin's abject surprise, Giles looked down at Aunt Cecily sobbing on the floor and nodded.

"Take her back upstairs." Robin glared at him as his aunt was dragged away. Her sobs echoed on the cold stone walls, tearing at his spirit with knife-like talons.

"So get on with it. You've waited years for this."

"You will not be so eager later. Bring him!" The jailer entered the little cell and unlocked the manacles that bound Robin's wrists. His arms swung limply to his sides and he sank his teeth into his lip again to keep from screaming. As he staggered upright, the jailer cuffed him across the cheek, knocking him back against the wall. Flooded with fury, Robin lunged at him, knocking him backward onto the uneven floor. The jailer yelled, trying to push Robin off, but Robin punched him viciously in the ribs until a shadow passed over him and something hard and cold smashed across the back of his head, dropping him like a stone.

Pain unlike anything he had ever felt before ripped through his frame as the ropes binding him to the barrel strained. His right shoulder was aflame, the joint badly dislocated. Helpless frustration and humiliation welled up in his eyes while Giles gloated over him. Robin retreated to the farthest recesses of his mind, trying to shut out the pain. They were careful not to damage him too quickly. He knew they wanted to preserve his health and stamina for as long as possible. They planned to break him one piece at a time, stitch him back together, and tear him apart again. Whenever he did not demonstrate enough anguish for their liking, they beat him so that soon his body became a mass of swollen, purple flesh. Still he hung on. The others needed him…

…_they needed him_. That faint voice of truth grew more distant and less encouraging as one day slid torturously into the next. Each blow felt magnified tenfold against his battered flesh and hunger clawed at his insides while thirst scorched his throat. The tattered remnants of his clothes were stiff and crusted with blood and sweat. He hung suspended by his wrists again, awaiting their next assault in silence. Every moment that passed ate away at his mind. His fingers and toes were a mass of dislocated joints. Naturally those had been Giles' first target. "Let's see you string a bow now, Hood," he had said as the jailer smashed Robin's hand with a heavy block of wood.

"I wish I could share your humiliation with the people," said Giles, stepping into the cell from the shadows. Robin could barely raise his head to acknowledge him. "I'd strap you to the stocks and have you stoned, then covered in honey so that the bears could have you, but I'm sure if I release you to the public one of your misguided admirers would attempt some sort of heroics and try to rescue you."

"You know, once I am dead there will be no one to protect you," Robin muttered hoarsely, lifting his head a fraction to catch the shock and disdain that crossed his stepfather's face.

"Protect me? What nonsense is this?"

"Think, halfwit. I have banded together all of the men and women who hate you with every fiber of their being. It is only my word that has stopped them from leading a full-scale rebellion against you. Once I am dead they will be furious. They will try to avenge me, and they will seek vengeance for every transgression you have made upon them that turned them to me. And you will be powerless to stop it."

"My men will deal with any such threat as they dealt with the people of Huntington." Robin shook his head weakly.

"This is different. These people will not stand by and let your men burn their homes. They will rise up and they will fight. To my men, your guards are a joke."

"Silence!" Giles bellowed. The smug smile he had worn so frequently of late was gone now and anger had surged to fill its place. "Tell me, why would anyone admire you? How could an insolent cur inspire loyalty? Why is it that I am booed in the streets, yet your name is met with cheers and applause?"

"You torture me and then ask why you are not loved?"

"YOU ARE NOTHING!" he roared. "And tomorrow, you will know it." He turned on his heel and stormed out of the dungeon, leaving Robin alone in the darkness.

If Robin had thought he had been in agony before, it was nothing compared to what lay in store for him. At last it seemed Giles' generosity had run out. The next morning the jailer wheeled the rack into his tiny cell. His heart hammered frantically in his chest as he watched their approach. The wooden table took up nearly the entire cell with only just enough room for the jailer and Giles to stand at either end. As the jailer unbound him, Robin lunged desperately for the door, but Giles stepped neatly to intercept him and drew the back of his hand so hard across Robin's face that it snapped his head around. He looked frantically between the two men, but there was no pity to be found on either face. The jailer pushed him hard down on the wooden table. Robin tried to squirm free, but his bound hands were wrenched above his head again, dragging a harsh cry from his lips. His body was already past what he felt he could endure, and one more day on the rack just might be the end of him.

"Do it!" Giles barked, glaring down his nose at Robin's white, sweaty face. "I want to hear his bones break." With a grim nod, the jailer gave a vicious turn on the wheel and an inhuman tore from Robin's throat, taking with it every ounce of dignity he had left.

When they were done with him, they left him strapped to the table. Blood caked every inch of his body and his bruised flesh glistened with sweat. Darkness crept in on him from all sides and he knew that consciousness was fast escaping him. His breathing was shallow and he shivered in the chill dungeon.

The dungeon door opened and a small orb of light appeared between a crack in the door. Robin could barely make it out through his swollen eyes. Tears leaked down his face, burning as salt slipped into fresh wounds. He could endure no more. The shame of being broken was too great for him to go on living. He closed his eyes, willing himself to die.

"Robin," said a low voice. His body tensed and he squeezed his eyes shut. A hot glow warmed his cheek against the bitter cold of the cell. Through his eyelids he sensed a bright light beside him. His body felt numb, as though he were somehow outside his misery now.

"No more," he moaned. "End this if you have any mercy in you."

"Aye Robin, I will end it." With that, Robin sank into oblivion.

When he awoke, he lay on a narrow straw mattress. He tried to move and rolled onto his right shoulder. It was if some fiery venom had exploded in his shoulder and sent its scorching poison all down the right side of his body. He cried out in anguish. Someone covered him with a blanket and Robin flinched away from the touch.

"Peace Robin. You are safe now."

He shivered. His eyes were swollen shut and he did not know who sat beside him in the dark. From the touch, Robin knew it was a woman, which only heightened his shame. She sponged his forehead with a cool cloth, taking care not to hurt him more than was necessary.

"Forgive me," he said in a harsh rasp. It tore through him to speak, but he had to know. "Who are you?"

"I am here to help you," came the raspy reply in a voice he did not recognize.

"How did I get here?" he managed through a throat dry as bone.

"You arrived here by the aid of someone who cares very much for you and would not see you harmed further. Your life is in good hands, Robin Hood. The damage is not permanent, but it will take time to heal." He acknowledged this with the merest nod.

Through slow, tender care, Robin began to revive. After a week or so the swelling began to go down and the pain did lessen. Thanks to the poultices and brews that the healer made for him his body did start to heal. Once he had the use of his eyes again, Robin saw that the woman who cared for him was an elderly woman whom he had never met. Her name was Gertrude, but that was the only bit of information he could divulge from her. She refused to tell him how she came to be wrapped up in his rescue. All that she would say was that she was doing a favor to a very dear friend of hers.

"What happened after the Sheriff realized I had escaped?" he asked hoarsely a few days after he had first found himself in her home. The old woman looked at him, her frizzy gray hair pulled back from her face in a messy braid and the lines of her aged face deepened with seriousness.

"I hear he's gone made with rage. You disappeared from him almost by magic and he's made it clear that he wants your head. He won't rest until he has you in his clutches again. You'd best stay here if you place any value upon your life." She gazed at him with sharp, blue eyes. Her penetrating stare bore into his wooden face, as expressionless as an oak tree.

"If I placed any value upon my life, I would not have become an outlaw in the first place," he murmured. At that, the old woman gave a dismissive sniff.

"As if that's something to be proud of. I wonder what your parents would say if they could see you now." Robin's eyes clouded and he looked away.

"I highly doubt they would say anything at all." That was the end of the discussion.

Once it became clear that Robin was no longer at death's doorstep, Gertrude's hospitality severely diminished. Without any warning she could go from pitying him to scolding him for his inability to heal faster. Clearly it had not been her idea to harbor him, and Robin was grateful that she at least showed loyalty to whoever her 'dear friend' was. One good thing that her constant nagging did was give him more incentive to recover so that he could leave the tiny hut.

"Do my men know where I am?" he asked one night as she knelt tending the small fire in the hearth. Her long gray and chestnut braid swung down off her shoulder and brushed the dirt floor. She stood slowly, wrapping her thin, woven shawl around her bony shoulders.

"Aye, a message was dispatched to them by Lady Marian and they know that you are well taken care of and will return to them when you are fully healed. They were instructed to make no effort to find you or risk bringing the Sheriff's attention upon you here. For all their crudeness, they are loyal to you and none have trespassed, though I hear Will Scarlett has taken your disappearance rather hard." Robin acknowledged this with quiet acceptance and turned his gaze to the ceiling, swallowing the rise of guilt. Gertrude walked toward him slowly, studying his ashen face.

"Your face is pale," she said in one of her gentler tones.

"I am worried for my men and the people. There are so many who depend on me and I cannot guard them whilst I lie here like an invalid." She fixed him with her most penetrating stare and backed a step away.

"And what are these people to you, Robin Hood? If you care for them as you claim then you should know them well enough to trust they can look after themselves as they did before your influence. But why do you care so? These are not your people." Impassioned, he tried to push himself up on one elbow, but the stiffness in his shoulder made him wince and lay back.

"I care because they are good people suffering under the yoke of a tyrant. If I can ease their suffering with my own then let it be so. I allowed Giles to become what he is and it is my duty to repent for my mistake by defending everyone whose life he touches with his evil. Tell me, how's Marian?" Gertrude's bristly eyebrows rose in surprise, then her expression molded into something close to dismay.

"I believe she is having a hard time of it up at the castle. The Sheriff has fixed his eye upon her and wishes to take her for his consolation prize in losing you. She has a hard time denying him while maintaining the pretense that she is naught but a helpless maid." The news hit Robin hard. Thanks to him Marian's troubles had only intensified. He could only imagine what she had to endure by the way of Giles' advances. He had seen his stepfather's conduct at the festival and the discomfort Marian had suffered. He—Robin—had not alleviated her discomfort by kissing her before the whole shire to see, he had laid a claim upon her for his stepfather to see, and that was a challenge Giles would be loath to ignore. Robin sighed and leaned his head back against his pillow. Gertrude clicked her tongue.

"There is no need to worry for Lady Marian's sake. She is a rare breed of woman with an inner strength uncommon even in men. No man will take her without her consent, mark me well." She spoke the truth, but Robin still felt guilt twisting his insides alongside a prickling feeling of jealousy.

"One thing I will not tolerate from you Robin Hood is self-pity," Gertrude snapped at him as he stared blankly down at the small bowl of chicken broth in his lap. His right shoulder still ached fiercely and it had been nearly two weeks since he had been able to walk around without wincing with pain from his cracked ribs. "You brought this mess down upon yourself by challenging the Sheriff in the first place. Only a fool would go against such a ruthless killer, and from what I've seen you are the biggest of fools." Robin grimaced.

"Madam I—"

"No, you will hear what I have to say. Giles of Northwood is not simply a tyrant; he is the worst of men. He destroys without remorse and you, Robin Hood, _feel_ too much to do what's necessary to defeat him." Her blue eyes narrowed as she came to stand by his bedside. Robin looked up at her silently, unsure how to respond to such an attack on his character.

"I have survived thus far," he said in a low voice, trying to maintain his composure while anger simmered beneath the surface. Only by reminding himself of the great risk Gertrude had taken to nurse him to health did he prevent himself from rising to her bait. She fixed him with her blue eyes so fiercely that for a moment he felt her gaze peer straight into his heart. The disdain in her face grew.

"You have survived because you are a coward hiding here among the trees. When have you ever challenged him face to face? You have always run from him with your tail between your legs. Look at you now. Your condition is all Giles' doing and the next time he captures you it will be much worse. Why subject yourself to such pain when you know deep down you are not strong enough to face it?" Fury roared inside Robin's head, and with a rush of sudden strength he knocked the bowl of soup off his knees.

"What do you know about me? How can you criticize me for hiding away in the forest when you yourself live in seclusion? I did not ask for your judgment. I may not be man enough to defeat him, but I am man enough to try. That is more than anyone else has done."

"Greater men than you have fallen before him, what makes you think you can make a difference?" she retorted, ignoring his outburst. The crackling flames behind her reflected in her eyes, giving her an oddly supernatural appearance, but Robin's suppressed rage had been awakened and all the pent up fury he felt over his helplessness was ready to erupt.

"_I will protect what is mine!_ Can't you understand that, woman? In Nottingham I have the chance to do what I could not before. I cannot stand by and watch innocent people suffer under a tyrant when I have the strength to fight for them!"

"If you wish so greatly for death why did you not find a way to the dungeons sooner?" she said coldly, turning her back on him in a blatantly dismissive gesture. Robin lay on the cot breathing heavily, blood pounding in his temples. Before he knew what he was doing, he swung his legs off the side of the bed and stood up in one swift, strong movement.

"Who are you to pass judgment on me? At least I am willing to do something rather than bow down to him like a common cur. What do you know of suffering, old woman?" The moment the words were out of his mouth he regretted them. He knew nothing of this woman's life and only hardships could cause her to be so bitter. She whirled around, infused with the same righteous indignation.

"_What do I know of suffering?_ I have suffered more because of Giles of Northwood than anyone! Thanks to him I have lost a good husband and my only son. He robbed me of a home and cast me into the cold winter with naught but my wits to save me. At least you know the ways of the forest and have the knowledge of weapons to aid you against wolves and the other creatures of the night. I was not so fortunate!" Her voice grew strained and cracked briefly but she continued to hold his gaze unwaveringly. For a moment they stood silent, twin pillars of fury glaring at each other with the same dark fury of deep wounds reopened blazing on their face. Her story touched him more than Robin wished and finally he found himself unable to hold onto his ire.

"If you hate him so then why do you not appreciate my efforts to stop him?" he asked quietly.

"Unlike these other simpletons who inhabit Nottingham that complain of high taxes and lack of respect, I have good reason to despise him. Do not start what you cannot finish, Robin. If you cannot promise to dispose of him then do not try. My heart cannot take one more disappointment at his hands." She held his gaze with an intensity Robin had never seen before. Something in her blind hatred was highly reminiscent of Will Scarlett's need for revenge and Robin felt a surge of pity and conviction grip him.

"You have my word Madam that one way or another I will end this. He will not be able to hurt you anymore."

"Oh do not bother yourself with me," she snapped irritably, turning on her heel again. The spell between them was broken. Suddenly Robin felt the effects of his burst of energy and the toll it was taking on his weak limbs to remain standing. Gertrude looked around and saw his legs give way. For a woman of her apparent age she moved with surprising swiftness. She caught him before he hit the floor and helped him back onto the cot. Despite her harsh words, there was a level of tenderness to her as she pulled his covers back over him and plumped his pillow. His stomach chose that moment to give a loud gurgle of hunger. Her silver eyebrow arched. Bending with much creaking of her old limbs she retrieved the wooden bowl he had knocked aside in his outburst and Robin ducked his head in shame. When he looked up again she was staring at him with another of her critical and highly disapproving glares; however, somewhere at the corner of her mouth a muscle twitched and Robin knew that deep down she was just as ashamed as he was. He started to laugh, a deep chuckle that shook his whole frame. Gertrude managed to hold her look of disapproval only a few seconds more before she too was forced to smile.

"When I was called upon to look after you I had expected a man, not some overgrown boy," she muttered, going to the kettle over the fire and refilling his soup. This time, Robin knew that she meant nothing of what she said.

"Speaking of men, how are mine faring?" Robin asked quietly as she handed him his second helping of broth. Her shoulders stiffened.

"I have been by your side ever since you arrived; what makes you think I know any more than you?"

"I don't suppose you could find a way to get a message to them. I wish to know what has happened in my absence."

"The world will go on without you, Robin Hood. You are not that important to the cycle of things. Oh very well," she snapped when she saw his dark steady gaze. "Honestly, you would think it would be enough that I saved your life…" the rest of her sentence escaped him because she began muttering under her breath. Robin shook his head and closed his eyes. There was something about the old woman's tough love that touched him. He respected a woman who spoke her mind; it put him in mind of Marian, and at the thought of his fiery-tempered maiden, he drifted off to sleep, abandoning his soup for the second time that night.

"Which road are you taking?" asked Robin the next morning as Gertrude wrapped a bright blue shawl around her bony shoulders. She sent him a piercing look.

"Do not try and give me directions, I know my way around these woods better than you. As far as I'm concerned it's a miracle the Sheriff hasn't hunted you out yet." Robin ignored this, too eager to have news of his friends to let her harsh words dissuade him.

"Remember to speak only to Little John. Alan a Dale has a talent for exaggeration and Will never looks at the whole picture. John is my second in command and if anyone knows anything, he will."

"Yes, yes, I know," she snapped, plucking a small basket from beside the door. "And yes, I will ask after Will Scarlett, and no I will not show any of them the way to my house, and yes I remember about the sentinel at the forked path. I have been living on my own in these woods for nearly eight years now and I am quite capable of making a five mile journey. Now hush, and no, I will not ask after Lady Marian. You haven't asked yet but I know the thought is swirling around in that thick head of yours. Now get some rest, I'll return as soon as I am able." With that she departed. Through the window Robin heard her muttering to herself, something along the lines of: 'overbearing, self-centered worry-wart." Robin chuckled. Despite her derisive manner, he liked the old woman, even pitied her. Surviving a winter in Sherwood Forest was no laughing matter, what with the icy weather and ravenous wolves. That a woman of her age had managed to survive on her own was astounding. But then, Robin thought, cocking his head to the side, was Gertrude really that old? He had seen the terrible change that had overcome his aunt since he had last seen her in Locksley. In one year she seemed to have aged ten.

Gertrude could very well yet be a woman in the prime of life. The wrinkles on her face were etched from constant frowning—and heaven knows she did that often enough. Her skin was not spotted with age, nor had she lost the color in her cheeks. Though weathered and worn from toiling in the earth, her hands were not weak and frail as an old woman's should be.

Suddenly Robin was filled with restlessness. He itched to get up and move around though he knew that to walk would be painful. Gingerly, he swung his legs off the bed. His cracked rib groaned in warning and he sucked in a sharp breath to steel himself. He stood up, bracing himself against the wall with one arm. His legs shook violently and he scowled down at them in frustration. The pain was not as great as he had expected and after accustoming himself to the throbbing in his calves, he slowly and surely began to pace around the room. He walked to the window and breathed deeply of the crisp fresh air.

Strength seeped into his bones. With each breath of forest air Robin felt a little more of his former self return. Smiling to himself, he rested his elbows against the window frame as his dark eyes lovingly scanned the forest. It seemed an eternity since he had been free. What was happening out in the world? What was the Sheriff doing? Were his men safe without him? His moment of peace shattered as he thought of his men. Worried, he ducked his head and stared down at the floor.

_One thing I will not tolerate from you Robin Hood is self-pity,_ he heard Gertrude say inside his mind's ear. His head came up again and he fixed his gaze on a faraway point deep within the forest. She was right; he lacked the luxury of self-pity. All his current problems were troubles of his own making. It was his decision to become Robin Hood and now he was obliged to follow through with all the promises he had made as the elusive outlaw.

"What are you doing out of bed?" snapped Gertrude abruptly, jerking Robin out of his thoughts. He did not know how long he had spent standing at the window, but no matter how long it had been he knew that she had made the journey to the Major Oak in far less time that he had expected.

"Is something wrong?" he asked swiftly, his voice strong and clear, no longer the weak voice of the invalid he had been only that morning. Her silver eyebrows rose at the change in his tone, but she planted her feet and put her hands on her hips.

"I won't say a word until you get back to bed. You'll undo all my hard work and I will not have you cluttering up my cottage any longer than necessary." News could not be so dire if she could not resist reminding him what an inconvenience he was to her.

"Now then," she said briskly once he had seated himself on the edge of his cot. "According to that giant friend of yours—blimey, I didn't think it was possible for an ordinary man to be so big—the Sheriff has raised the price on your head and his men have been breaking into homes of people they suspect of housing you. There's been no damage worse than a few bruises and broken crockery."

"What of Will?" Robin interjected quickly. She sent him a disapproving look.

"I'm getting to it. It seems Will Scarlett wishes to lead a strike against the Sheriff. Little John has been able to keep the men from acting thus far, but it won't be long before Will manages to convince them that they have to act. The only one who seems to be able to talk any sense into him is Lady Marian." Robin's head shot up.

"Marian was in the forest?"

"Aye, apparently she has been keeping Little John informed on the Sheriff's actions against the people. He says without her there might have been much worse damage against the peasants. As it is, they have managed to warn nearly half of the peasants beforehand."

"Who is looking after her?" Robin asked swiftly. Gertrude frowned.

"So like a man to think that a lady can't look after herself, even when that very lady rescued you from a fate worse than death. If you had your men tailing after her every step you would draw more attention to her. Marian is much too clever to let herself get caught in one of the Sheriff's traps, and from the sound of things she is the last thing on his mind at the moment."

"Yes but Giles seeks to woo her into marriage. You don't understand what that could mean."

"Oh aye," she said darkly. "I know enough about the scoundrel to know what that would mean for her, but I know enough about Marian to know that she would die before she'd consent to marry a man like him. She is not a lady to be wooed. Only one man will ever be granted the place at her side, and he will earn it through respect, not poetry." She nodded, and for the first time that day a bit of warmth crept into her voice. Obviously she had a high opinion of Marian, and it was this that gave Robin the courage to form his next question.

"What chance do you think I stand at earning that place?" Gertrude blinked, stunned by the personal nature of the question. She looked into his eyes and for a moment, Robin recognized something in the depths of her blue eyes that he had all but forgotten. Her fingers caught the end of her long braid and began toying with the ends of it.

"She has risked life and limb to be your ally and savior; I would say there is a very good chance you have it already."


	9. Chapter 9

"_I tell you he is not dead_! A dead man could not have vanished from a locked dungeon. The peasant scum would not shelter a dead man!" Giles bellowed. Marian paused just past the door, wondering who he was talking to. The conversation could not have been private because they had left the door wide open.

"My Lord be reasonable, he was in no fit state when last you saw him. If he did manage to escape he could not have made it far."

"HE HAD AID YOU LUMMOX!" Marian turned her head to stifle a small chuckle. "If his men were able to break into this fortress to rescue him without leaving a trace that means they can do it again. Even now he could have spies lurking in every corner. For all I know _you_ could be a member of his fold."

"Sir you wound me," said Alexander, the dungeon keeper. "I have served you faithfully for ten years. I would never betray you to a man the likes of this outlaw."

"Oh stop your blubbering, Alexander!" Giles spat. "Finish your ale and get out of my sight. On your way out have a page bring in another bottle."

"You have already had more than two bottles, Sir. Perhaps you should—"

A loud crash followed by a bellow of pain caused Marian's heart to leap inside her chest. Without thinking, she rushed to the doorway. Alexander, a middle-aged man dressed in the long gray uniform of the dungeon keeper stood hunched over against the far wall clutching the side of his head. Blood dripped between his fingers, mixed with the ale spilling down his front from the broken bottle lying in shards at his feet.

"My Lord, is everything all right?" gasped Marian, staring transfixed by the sight of Alexander holding his bleeding head.

"Get out you oaf!" Giles bellowed, charging toward the injured man to drive him out. Muttering curses under his breath, Alexander promptly left the room to find bandaging for his head. Marian watched him go a moment before she whirled on Giles, too overcome by outrage to think about her situation.

"Of all the barbaric things I've ever seen!" she snapped, her eyes narrowed to acid green slits. Giles lunged at her, clapped a hand over her mouth and slammed the door behind her as he dragged her into the office. Inebriated and unsuspecting of the strength she possessed, Giles gave a grunt of surprise as she managed to break free and push him backwards into his desk.

"_Unhand me!_"

"Forgive me; I acted hastily" he wheezed, wiping his hand over his chin where a trail of spittle had landed. His dark eyes glittered as they surveyed her.

"Sire, that poor man is bleeding. I think you should send for a physician to tend to him." She did not add that it was the least he could do. He ignored her words and continued to stare at her.

"I have been under much stress lately with the disappearance of the outlaw. I'm afraid I am not quite myself, but I am better now. Come, sit down. There is something I wish to talk with you about." He indicated the chair in front of his desk where Marian had previously sat for interrogation. Doubt clouded her mind.

"_Sit_," he commanded in a voice that did not offer room for refusal. Swallowing back the rise of fear, she went regally forward to take the seat. He sat on the edge of the desk, still looking at her in that unsettling way, as if he was suddenly seeing her in a whole new light. It took all her resolve not to fidget under that strange gaze.

"What did you wish to discuss?" she asked as calmly as she could, carefully looking toward the opposite wall.

"I'm sure you overheard part of my conversation with that imbecile. Until I have Robin Hood safely back in custody none of us are safe. It pains me greatly to think that any in my house might be targeted by this rogue and any strike he might make in the future will probably be more dangerous than any previous ones."

She waited, wondering where this was going.

"From his behavior at the May Day celebration he has already made a target of you. From now on my men will safeguard you against this villain who seeks to take you away from me." Marian's eyes narrowed warily.

"Away from _you_, Milord?"

"Aye, Robin seeks to destroy me and he will strike out at those closest to me. My men will protect you."

"That is unnecessary," she replied quietly, her eyes downcast to hide the sheen of fear she knew he would see there. "Hood likes a challenge and to place your men around me will only encourage him. Besides, I could not accept such a gesture when I have done nothing to deserve it, and there are other ladies among your guests who would be much more relieved for the added protection."

"You do not wish to be protected?"

"It's not that—"

"Or is it you enjoy the attention from the outlaw? Perhaps you were relieved at his release because you fancy yourself his only paramour. If you would cast aside my aid then I hope he carries you off you foolish girl! After all I have done for you this is the thanks I receive! You would take that bastard over me? GET OUT!" he roared, lunging at her. Marian spun out of reach and quickly retreated to the door.

Breathing heavily at the unexpected sting of the insults, Marian grasped the door hand and turned to face him.

"Bear in mind Sire, I'm not the one he's coming for." At the sound of the words, the Sheriff froze. His face contorted with rage and hate. She knew that he would have tried to attack her a third time had not the sound of shouting reached his ears.

"We've got them, we've got them! We've got Hood's men!"

Marian's blood ran cold as she saw the gleam of triumph that transformed the Sheriff's face. He ran for the door, ignoring her completely. Marian stood in the empty office shaking. Giles of Northwood had murdered innocent people for being too closely connected to his stepson and here she was practically offering herself up to be slaughtered. Taking a deep breath, she stole out into the corridor and down the winding stairs into the entrance hall and finally out into the main courtyard.

Guy of Gisborn sat astride a dark stallion, his arrogant mouth as smug as Marian had ever seen it. Behind him, his men wheeled a large cart containing three men bloodied and bound. Her eyes swept the prisoners but they were faces she did not recognize. Relief blossomed inside her, followed quickly by guilt. Whether these men were her friends or not they were still members of Robin's band and they deserved whatever aid she could give them.

"Excellent work, Sir Guy," said Giles loudly, practically dancing with glee. His eyes shone brightly as he clapped his hands together. Leering, he leaned his face close to the bars of the cage and spat at the prisoners.

"Robin will come for us," said the largest of the three, wiping saliva from his cheek defiantly.

"You will be dead before he gets the chance," Giles replied with the cheer of a man presenting a lavish gift to someone. "And if he comes to try to rescue your sorry skins he will find himself hung along beside you, along with anyone else at his side. Your master has escaped me for the last time!"

"Our master?" murmured one of the men, lifting his head drowsily. A deep gash oozed blood over his left eye and his head hung limply against his chest. Marian stared at him a moment, realizing that she had seen this man before.

"You should be pleased, Maid Marian," said Guy snidely, edging his horse near to where she stood frozen. Her green eyes were wide with hopelessness as she fixed them on Gisborn.

"Why should I be pleased? Three innocent men are about to die," she whispered, disbelieving. The evil smirk that Gisborn flashed her confirmed her worst fears.

"Whether they are his men or not, in their hearts they wish him to rescue them and that makes them as traitorous as any of his 'Merry Men'. Besides, as you can see the Sheriff does not care." She gaped at him, lost for words and terrified because of it. "Marian, you seem upset. As someone the outlaw has vexed on countless occasions I would think you would be pleased that he will at last be brought to justice." An undercurrent of danger lay in his voice but she could not arm herself against it.

"This is wrong…" she said softly, staring at the three innocent peasants. Now she recognized him, the man half-conscious. It was Avery, the man she had first seen Robin rescue from Giles. He raised his head as if he knew that she alone knew the truth of his innocence and looked deep into her eyes. Pain lined his face and exhaustion weighed his limbs, but the desperation in his gaze was powerful and as wounding as anything the Sheriff could do in his torture chamber. A sting of tears started in the corners of her eyes. Without excusing herself, Marian turned on her heel and fled back into the castle. She hurried back to her quarters with all haste, gasping for breath with one hand pressed to her ribs and one hand tight against the door handle in case someone tried to follow her. Away from Avery's helpless stare she was no longer in danger of tears, but her chest and throat remained constricted with fear. Robin was in no fit shape to rescue these men and she knew that Little John was not capable of planning a rescue of this scale.

"Don't be a fool, Robin," she whispered as she closed her eyes and sank wearily back against the door. Even as she said it she knew that her prayer was futile. If Robin learned of this, he would move heaven and earth to free these men, even if it meant taking their place. "Dear God, don't let him come."

Where was she? Robin paced the tiny cottage, glancing continuously at the window, hoping for a sign of Gertrude. She had gone again to visit with his men but this time she had been gone for several hours. What could be keeping her? She had informed him several times that she did not enjoy spending her time with men whose concept of bathing was a drunken stumble into a stream. Though Robin tried to convince himself that he was overreacting, his heart told him that something had gone wrong. Gertrude, for all her grumbling ways, understood how important it was to him to stay up to date on what his men were doing and he knew she would not stay away unless she could help it.

Even the forest seemed tense. The trees rustled anxiously as thunder rumbled far in the distance. The animals were silent except for the crows. Somewhere close by a crow cawed ominously, causing the hairs on the back of Robin's neck to stand on end.

"I'll be damned if I'll let her torment me thus," he growled under his breath. He went and found the boots and cloak Gertrude had bought for him in the village once she realized that now that he had found himself capable of standing it would not be long before he went outside on his own. His ribs still hurt and he moved with an awkward stiffness he had never known before. The pain was bearable and in his current disposition, he thought nothing of it. Looking around the cottage one last time, for he had the feeling that he would not be returning, he left, taking the path that he knew Gertrude took to reach his camp.

Dark clouds blocked out the sun so that Robin had to let his senses guide him over the uneven terrain. Slowly, the ways of the wood came back to him. His steps grew more certain and despite his stiffness he managed to find some of the speed that had helped earn him a reputation as a phantom. The two and a half mile distance vanished in the blink of an eye and suddenly he was back under the branches of the Major Oak. His heart fell.

No sentinel had stopped him or sounded the call to announce his return. There had been no flicker of movement among the trees to suggest he was being watched, and standing in the center of his camp, he found it deserted. Fear drummed inside his chest.

"Is anyone there?" he shouted, his voice echoing strangely around the clearing. Such silence in the place that usually rang with laughter was like a knife stabbing at his soul.

"Robin? Robin!" He whirled around to see Alice running towards him, her blond hair streaming behind her. She flung herself on his neck and Robin bravely disguised the pain in his ribs.

"Alice, what happened here? Where is everyone?" To his dismay, she burst into tears.

"Oh Robin it was awful. There was a raid at the Blue Boar Inn last night. The Sheriff's men arrived and declared that everyone there was guilty of conspiring with outlaws and were under arrest. Will and Alan were there!" Robin's heart stopped in his chest. "They managed to get away. Three men were captured and are going to be hanged tonight in Nottingham Square. Worst of all, they're not even your men! It's Phillip the smith, Avery, and Joe Little, Little John's kinsman."

"Where are the others?" Robin asked, struggling to focus on everything she was saying. Guilt battered him like a club, but he focused on her orb-like blue eyes and forced himself to think only of what to do. Alice dropped her head, still crying.

"When Will and Alan returned, Will was in a terrible rage. I've never seen anyone like that," her voice shivered. "He demanded that the rest do what they could to rescue the prisoners."

"But why did they listen to Will? Little John is my second in command."

"Little John was going to go after his brother anyway and there was nothing he could say to stop the others. Will said that it was what you would have wanted. They all left. Oh Robin, I'm so afraid. It's all a trap, isn't it?" she whispered, looking up at him through swollen eyes. Swallowing back the comforting lies that surged to the tip of his tongue, Robin nodded. She gave another little moan and pressed her face against his chest.

"Alice, I must go after them," he said in a steady voice, gently pushing her to arms length. She gasped.

"But you are still recovering. A feat like this could kill you!"

"What good is a leader without his men?" he said softly. "I must do this, you know I must." After a long moment, she nodded.

"Very well, Robin. I will gather your things, only tell me what you will need and I will have it for you."

"That's my brave girl." He smiled at her, his most charming smile that caused her fair cheeks to turn rosy.

"Enough of that now," she teased, swatting at him half-heartedly. "What would my Alan think if he saw?" Robin laughed.

"Bring me a sword, a bow and as many arrows as you can find."

"My lady!" Marian slipped down from the back of her gray palfrey and ran to the door of the cottage. It had been easy escaping the castle with everyone preparing for the execution of the three "outlaws". She hammered on the door frantically, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one had followed her.

"What child, what?" snapped Gertrude irritably, pulling open the door. Her long gray braid swung over her shoulder as she scowled at Marian through the crack in the door.

"Have you heard what's happened? Please, let me in, I must speak with Robin."

"You know as well as I do that he's not here. I don't know how he knew, but when I got back from visiting his men he had gone." Marian stamped her foot and swung away from the old woman in frustration.

"Why can't he just do the sensible thing and stay put? If he is captured again—and in his present state I am sure he will be—his suffering will be far worse, if they don't kill him straightaway. Why is he so ready to give up his life?" Gertrude regarded her quietly for a moment then stepped outside to join her.

"It is his way to assume responsibility for the fates of others. Think Marian of all that has happened to him that he could not control, all those that he has lost."

"He is not the only one who knows suffering! I have suffered and you don't see me stretching myself out on the rack. Why must he be so stupid?" Marian sighed, squinting hard against the faint mist obscuring her vision. Gertrude clicked her tongue sympathetically.

"No Marian, you show your pain in a different way. We all do. There are few who choose the path Robin has taken. You wall yourself up away from the world, afraid to be touched or loved. Me, well I am a bitter old woman now, but I was not so in another life."

"I am _not_ afraid to be loved," said Marian sharply. At this, Gertrude laughed.

"Then why did you attempt to batter down my door to stop my son from going to meet his foe? When we first met you spoke of Robert as if he was the most despicable of men, yet now there is respect and caring in your eyes."

"Does he know?" asked Marian, evading the directness of Gertrude's stare. Gertrude shook her head with a sigh. Suddenly she was no longer the tough old woman living in the woods, but the battered and broken cast-off of a brutal and dangerous man. She seemed to shrink before Marian's very eyes.

"Giles has caused him enough pain. I do not wish him to see me like this. I will not be another burden on his shoulders. Giles took everything from me and when he realized that I would never submit to his will he cast me out into the cold, penniless and alone. I might as well have been dead for all anyone cared. Upon my 'death' I lost all power and influence I had that might have stopped Giles from becoming what he is now; but he was villainous long before we were married and I doubt even if I could have done something it would have been any help."

"Your son has fought him and he has no power within the law at all," Marian pointed out.

"Yes, but people will listen to a young man wielding a sword much more quickly than an old woman telling them to behave. Women in our world are never given much power."

"But Milady, he greatly wishes to see you, to know that you are well. When he learns the truth, he will come whether you wish it or not."

"He is reckless like his father. Roger could never leave well enough alone either," she said idly. There was little affection in the woman's voice. Marian frowned. Face to face the two women stood, searching each other for an understanding that was not there. Marian sighed and bowed her head.

"If he learns that I have spoken with you—and believe me Robin has his ways—what am I to tell him?"

"Tell him that I am alive and well and that I have no wish to see him." The statement was cold and unfeeling. Marian stared, hurt on Robin's behalf. She hesitated before speaking.

"He will not believe it and I must say that I have trouble hearing such words from a mother to her son. He is out there right now fighting for what he has lost, including you. Don't you care? Don't you understand what your husband has done to him? He robbed him of a life! That Robin can feel for others at all, much less take it upon himself to fight for their plight makes him a man of extraordinary greatness. How can you not wish to speak with him as his mother?" The former Lady Charity placed her hand upon the doorway behind them and closed her eyes as if drawing strength from the wood.

"Try to understand, Marian. Yes, he is my son, but he is also a man, and men have not been kind to me. My husband, whom I came to adore with all my heart, was taken from me by a man who then forced me to marry him and then ruined what was left of my life. My son grew up away from me, under the guidance and tutelage of a man who refused my hand and chose my sister instead. I cannot bear the disappointment of seeing my son turn out like all the others."

"But he's not!" said Marian heatedly. "He is better; he is the best man I have ever met." Marian stared at the woman before her in confusion. "He deserves to know the truth. I was told that you were a great lady once, that Huntington Manor was ruled by the kindest lord and lady in England. If this is the lady they spoke of then they spoke false."

It unnerved Marian to stand under the surveillance of those eyes in the face of one other than Robin. Though they were blue, the penetrating stare was the same, only sharpened to a knife-point by the woman's bitterness and distrust. At last, Lady Charity took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"Believe me, Marian, what I do now I do for the sake of my son and all those he fights for. I am safe here and even if he were to come and 'rescue me' there is nowhere for me to go. I cannot live as he does as an outlaw. Once I was the lady that you spoke of but am no longer. The years have not been kind to me and I am not the mother my son remembers. It would break his heart to see me now and Nottingham needs its hero whole. If you must send a message to him, then tell him that I love him as a mother should love her son but that I am well positioned as I am. When all this is over, we will be together again." Marian shook her head and moved across the grass to where her palfrey stood waiting. The answer was insufficient and hardly worth the effort she'd taken to receive it, but it was all she could hope for.

"That is, if he comes back at all."

From the forest edge Robin could see the crowds hurrying towards the castle to witness the execution. His stomach churned nervously at a fresh wave of memories from his last encounter with the Sheriff. A cold sweat broke out on his brow; he shivered.

"Will, you clodpole," he muttered under his breath, his dark eyes darting here and there among the faraway crowd for any familiar face. If it weren't for his cousin's hot head there would only be three lives at stake instead of four score. Hiding beneath the shadow of his hood, he started forward. A fork of lightning lit up the sky followed by a crack of thunder that rattled deep inside his chest.

He mixed in among the eager crowd, blending seamlessly in their midst. No one looked twice at him as they jostled and pushed their way toward the castle. Their chatter filled his head so that he could barely think. When a careless elbow accidentally bumped his ribs, he hissed and doubled over, clutching his side in minor agony. He could only imagine what Gertrude would say if she knew what he was doing. Taking several shallow breaths, he straightened up and limped on, one hand still protectively shielding his side.

It took a small eternity to reach the courtyard and Robin made few friends by shouldering his way to the front of the crowd. However, several people glanced twice at the arrows strapped across his back and the hood that cast his face in shadow and discreetly stepped aside to let him pass. "Go get 'em, Robin," he heard whispered behind his back. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Dustan the Miller standing just behind him. Their eyes locked and Robin nodded with a tight smile.

"Have you seen your son?"

"Aye, he's meeting the others at the blacksmith's. Are you all right? You don't look—"

"I'll be better once my men are safely away from here," Robin interrupted; he did not want to know how frail he looked after three weeks in bed. Even though he had steadily regained some of his strength while Gertrude ran her errands, he was in no way physically ready for battle. Dustin's other comment however was of much relevance to him. Did he dare risk fighting his way back to the village to intercept his men?

"Whatever you need, we will help," said Dustin as if he sensed the turmoil within Robin. There was no need to ask who he meant by 'we.' Those near enough to hear the conversation were all nodded eagerly. Robin's dark eyes scanned the crowd for a sign of the guards. They stood paired off in every corner of the courtyard and surely more were hidden among the ramparts. The peasants before him carried no weapons, but they bravely nodded their willingness to help him. His heart felt hollow.

"Let us hope it does not come to that. Dustin, I need you to find the others. Tell them only to act when they hear _my_ signal."

"But how can you sound the call when the Sheriff has your horn? He's been crowing about it for weeks now," Dustan protested. Robin fixed Dustan with a dark, steady glare that did not invite further argument. He had all but returned from the dead to rescue his men here today and Dustan thought something as trivial as stealing a horn would be a problem? Cowed by the intensity in Robin's gaze, Dustan did as he was told. Turning swiftly, Robin looked up to survey the platform upon which stood the gallows. Three nooses were already hung and they shone eerily in the blue light of the night and red glow of torches.

The doors of the castle burst open and a line of soldiers marched out with Giles in the lead, flanked by Lieutenant Gisborn and a third man whose head was heavily bandaged but still wore a smug smile on his mouth. With a humiliating rush of fear and anger, Robin recognized the third man as the jailer who had enthusiastically aided in his torture. Giles wore a resplendent robe of blood red velvet lined in black fur. His usual uniform of black and silver seemed even more extravagant than usual as he had donned his most fetching attire. Robin lowered his head and barred his teeth in a growl when he glimpsed the rings glittering on the Sheriff's fingers as he reached for a torch. Clearly he had donned all his finest jewels to taunt him with, knowing Robin could want nothing more than to strip him of them in front of the watching crowd.

Through the open doors another figure emerged, wrapped securely in a long midnight cloak. Had it not been for the flash of red hair Robin glimpsed beneath the hood, Robin would have ignored her completely. _Marian_, he breathed. How could she come here knowing the chaos that would undoubtedly erupt?

"My people!" shouted Giles, stepping onto the platform and jerking Robin from his thoughts of Marian's safety. "Today is a day for celebration. We have captured the outlaw's men and it will only be a matter of time before we have the wolf head himself! Bring them!" Robin held his breath as more guards marched through the doors dragging Avery, Phillip, and Joe with chains around their wrists. Only Joe, who shared his brother's enormous size still seemed to have strength enough to stand. Avery allowed himself to be dragged down the front steps, hardly moving when the guards kicked him in the ribs and ordered him to get to his feet. Phillip Smith stumbled and staggered, unable to see through his eyes that had been swollen shut. Every fiber in Robin's body clenched with guilt as he saw the bruised and bloodied prisoners that hardly resembled his friends. It was these men who had suffered Giles' wrath at losing Robin, and these men had committed no crime worse than acknowledging him as a friend.

"These outlaws have pillaged and plundered from us long enough and at last we bring them to justice. They deserve death a thousand times over for putting in their lot with that devil, Robin Hood."

"Robin will come for us," Joe Little wheezed through a broken nose, his head bowed but his eyes blazing with stubborn defiance. The guard behind him cuffed him so hard on the back of the head that it dropped him to his knees. Robin's nerves jolted with foreboding.

"You see!" Giles crowed. "Even now they think that their leader will come to their aid. Robin Hood is already dead! I have proof!" A loud gasp rose up from the crowd and all three prisoners raised their head in horror. With a flourish and an evil grin, Giles withdrew from the folds of his cloak the glittering golden hunting horn that Much had stolen from Prince John so many months ago. Had Giles been a man of reason he would have known immediately that the three men were innocent because not one of them realized what it was that he held in his hand. Only Robin's Merry Men would understand the significance of the golden horn that Robin carried with him always.

"Liar!" Robin roared. A sea of heads turned in his direction. Dressed in the humble garb of a peasant and hidden beneath the hood of his cloak he did not fear instant recognition from his enemy.

"You dare call me a liar?" Giles shouted, lunging toward the edge of the platform.

"Aye, what proof is that?" asked Robin boldly, striding toward the platform.

"This was taken from Robin's very hand before he died," the Sheriff announced, glaring at Robin with hatred in his face. His shoulders were tense now as he recognized danger. His last words had gone too far; too many knew that Robin had escaped the Sheriff's clutches, and sowing the seeds of doubt now caused them to look upon the Sheriff with distrust. Giles looked wildly over his shoulder at Lieutenant Gisborn.

"If that were Robin's horn ye wouldn't be needing to draw his men to ye. One blast of that horn would summon them for ye."

"Seize him!" Giles bellowed, turning his back on Robin in a swish of his scarlet cloak. "I will hear no more of this nonsense."

"If he's well and truly dead and that is his famed horn, give 'er a blast, Sheriff. Call his men to you." At the taunt, Giles froze. His triumph was slipping from between his fingers and he knew it. Already the jibes were turning the peasants against him. His bravado wavered as he looked down at the horn in his hands. Robin saw how it galled the Sheriff to be forced into his shadow. Fixing a smug smile upon his thin lips Giles turned around to face his audience.

Reluctantly, he put the horn to his lips and blew. The sound was high and thin, hinting at the richness of her true sound but nowhere near as legendary as the outlaw's call. Some of the peasants began to laugh.

"Allow me, Sheriff," said Robin, leaping onto the platform. Before Giles could protest he snatched the horn from his hands and blew. The loud rich sound was loud as thunder and warm as a fire's glow. Robin blew a second time, and a third, his confidence soaring with each new note. As the final trumpet echoed into the distance he lowered the horn and smiled coldly into his stepfather's eyes, his free hand moving instinctively to his sword.

"She sings only for the outlaw it would seem," he whispered. Before the Giles could react, before he could draw breath to shout for his guards, Robin's sword was at his throat. "Now, release the prisoners," said Robin loudly, keeping an eye on the guards who were struggling to get to the platform through the crowd. Giles laughed, the sound high-pitched from strain and barely concealed fear.

"You have nowhere to go, Hood. My men will see you hanged tonight." Robin leaned closer so that a thin line of blood appeared on his stepfather's throat.

"If I were you, Sheriff, I would be worrying about what _my_ men will do."

Suddenly, from out of the depths of the dark night, an arrow lodged itself in the wood of the gallows with a loud thunk. A woman screamed. Silence, thick and unnerving settled upon the tense square. Robin froze, his left hand clenched on the hunting horn while his right tightened with anticipation upon the sword. With a snarl, Giles knocked the blade aside and ran for the safety of his guard. Lunging after him, Robin cracked him over the head with the hilt of his sword the leapt over his fallen body to the prisoners, but already the guards were rushing to meet him. He skidded to a halt, sword held tight in his hand. Behind him a dull roar of voices filled the air, accompanied by the hiss of arrows. Like a green tide the Merry Men flooded the courtyard, bows raised and swords flashing. Cursing, the guards quickly fell back out of range to address this new threat. Robin ducked around them to the prisoners; however they were shackled together and without the key he could not free them.

"Robin behind you!" shouted Avery as Robin bent over him. Robin spun around to see Lieutenant Gisborn bearing down on him with a foot-long dagger. He rolled out of the way and raised his sword to deflect the slash of Gisborn's blade. Robin's shoulder seared with pain as he struggled to hold off Gisborn's attack. A strangled yell escaped him as he called for help.

"Robin!"

A figure leapt over him and Gisborn was driven back with a fierce snarl of rage. Robin rolled onto his stomach and saw Alan a Dale engaged in a heated battle with the lieutenant.

"You make a better outlaw than you do a soldier, boy," Gisborn panted, blocking and lunging. Alan ducked under Gisborn's outstretched arm and elbowed him hard across the mouth.

"And we outlaws are better men."

Leaving Alan to his duel, Robin glanced around for a sign of the jailer. He spotted the little weasel scurrying up the front steps toward the safety of the castle. Quickly, he surged to his feet, drew an arrow and let it fly. The force of the missile pinned the man to the heavy oak doors by the thick material of his sleeve. Blood blossomed on the dark material but Robin didn't care. He hastened through the battle on the platform to reach the man. Halfway to his target a figure cloaked in midnight blue assailed him and nearly knocked him backward down the steps. Reaching instinctively for his sword, he drew up his arm to ward off the attacker and saw Marian running ahead of him up the stairs. Stunned, he watched her go to the jailer and pluck the arrow from his sleeve. Furious, Robin started after them. Marian saw him coming and quickly pushed the jailer inside the doors but did not have time herself to flee before Robin was upon her. He crushed her against the doors, his face inches from hers, his bow pinned under her chin.

"What are you doing?" he snarled.

"I'm helping you; now let me go!" she snapped breathlessly, wedged tightly between his body and the door. "Take these and get off me!" She thrust something into his hands and he felt the cool touch of metal and heard the jangle of keys. Before he could thank her, she drew a sharp gasp. "Giles is coming!" Robin turned to look over his shoulder, still pinning her to the door. She struggled in his grip. Sure enough, the Sheriff, having spotted Marian locked in Robin's grip, was vaulting up the stone steps to rescue her. Had Robin thought his stepfather capable of chivalry he might have been impressed.

"You must let me go, Robin. I cannot be seen with you," Marian whispered urgently in his ear. His jaw clenched and he gave a brisk nod as he released her, not taking his eyes off Giles. Stepping back he allowed her to pass by him into the castle. He drew another arrow to his bow and sent it straight at Giles' head. He ducked, but not before the arrow grazed his ear. Bellowing in pain, he clapped a hand to his head and Robin flew past him, vaulted back onto the platform and dived to the side of the three innocent men. In seconds he had freed them but they were still too weak to make an escape on their own. Robin raised his head and looked around. The Merry Men were all around him, ushering out the terrified peasants and fending off the totally outnumbered guardsmen.

"Little John, Much!" Robin roared, spotting them nearest. "Get these men to safety." Between the three of them they managed to help the injured men off the platform. Little John carefully hefted Avery over his shoulder and Much allowed Phillip to use his shoulder as a crutch. Joe Little refused aid and stumbled along after his much larger brother. Robin moved to go after them when he spotted the flash of a scarlet cloak. Whipping around he saw Will engaged in combat with Guy of Gisborn. Fear surged into Robin's breast and he ran to his cousin's aid. He flung himself at Guy and crushed him against the stone wall; he crumpled to the ground, stunned. Robin seized Will by the thick fabric of his cloak and pulled him away. With his free hand, he reached for the horn now securely returned to his belt. One loud blast sounded the retreat and with a roar of triumph, the Merry Men withdrew from the square, leaving the battered guard lying limply behind them.

Robin and Will rushed to follow the others, but once they reached the village, Will yanked himself free and tried to escape down a side street, but Robin ran after him and pinned him against a wall, half lifting him off the ground in his anger.

"What were you thinking?" he bellowed, his face barely inches from Will's. "You could have gotten them all killed!"

"Someone had to do something! You weren't there to lead them," Will yelled back. "We couldn't have just let them hang."

"Did you even have a plan you imbecile? Didn't you think that Giles would have anticipated a rescue?"

"I'm not you, Robert! I don't know how to be patient and do what is responsible; I can only do what needs to be done."

"At the risk of how many lives, Will? I cannot always be there to save your neck!"

"_I did not ask for your help!_" Will knocked Robin away and picked up a small wooden barrel by his feet to fling at Robin's head. Robin dodged it and heard it crash against the wall behind him. Will reached for another, snarling like a rabid animal, but Robin got to him first and folded him in the strength of his arms. Will struggled violently, trying to punch and kick at him, but Robin refused to let go, even when Will's elbow struck his broken rib. It weakened him enough so that Will managed to run him into the stone wall on the opposite side of the alley. All the air rushed out of Robin's lungs in a harsh grunt. Finally, he was forced to let go as he collapsed in a painful heap on the ground. Wincing, he looked up at his cousin, whom he barely recognized.

"You have always been a brother to me Will, and I thought I lost you to Giles once. Do you think I could stand to do it again?" Gathering what little strength he had left, Robin struggled to his feet and walked toward his cousin, who had dropped his head and refused to meet his eye. "Will, look at me. I need you by my side. The world may know you as Will Scarlett, but you will always be William of Locksley in my eyes. Whatever burdens you carry, let me carry them with you." His voice shook as he spoke and when he saw the tears shining on his cousin's cheeks, Robin flung his arms around him and this time not even the heavens could have torn them apart. Will hugged him back, sobbing loudly into his shoulder.


	10. Chapter 10

Marian braced herself against the cool window frame, enjoying the chill night air on her face and the warmth of the fireplace at her back. She still wore the midnight cloak and her simple green gown underneath, having been too anxious to even consider preparing for bed. Her hands had finally ceased their trembling, but she could not stop shivering. Despite the cries of agony and blood splashed across the courtyard, it was Robin's dark eyes, black with fury as he had pinned her against the castle doors that haunted her relentlessly. Although she would never admit it to him, he had frightened her. She brushed a stray tendril of hair out of her face and looked up at the moon, now clear and bright in the aftermath of the storm.

There was a soft knock at her chamber door; Marian did not turn. She had sent Lucy to see Lady Cecily to tell her everything that Marian had seen. Marian would have gone herself; in fact she wished she had the comfort of the elder woman's compassion, but it was too dangerous for her to be seen with anyone tied to Robin tonight. The knock came again and Marian remembered that she had locked her door after Lucy had departed, fearing that Avian might try to seek her out in a fit of worry over Will.

"I'm sorry, Lucy, I forgot it was locked," she called, withdrawing the key from her pocket.

"It's probably for the best that it was," said Robin as she pulled open the door. Her hand froze on the latch and for a moment all she could do was stare at him. How had he gotten inside the castle? Why would he dare such a ridiculous stunt after that horrible battle? Conflicting emotions of exasperation and relief battled for dominance, and she knew not whether she wanted to berate him for coming or thank him. She stood there so long that after a while, Robin glanced over his shoulder uneasily.

"Marian, it is rather dangerous for me to be standing out here in the corridor in the home of my mortal enemy; I would greatly appreciate it if I could come in." His sarcasm determined which route her emotions took and scowling she opened the door wider to let him in. As soon as he was inside she closed the door, locked it, and turned on him.

"What are you doing here? It's bad enough you joined in the fighting after all that your mo—" she caught her tongue between her teeth and held her breath for the span of a heartbeat before correcting her mistake, "men have been through without you. Gertrude risked her life by reviving you and what did you do as thanks? At the first opportunity for danger you rushed off to throw yourself in the thick of it. She and I did not go through all the trouble of rescuing you only to have you try and kill yourself!" Her voice was steadily rising and Robin ducked his head while making a silencing gesture with his hands.

"Aye Marian, I know that I shouldn't have come, but I had to. Will was going to lead a full-blown attack on the castle and he has no head for strategy. He could have gotten everyone killed and then there would be more than just three men in the hangman's noose. As for coming here tonight; I had to speak with you, to apologize for what happened on the steps."

"I don't know what you mean," she said coolly. He stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"I apologize for not having more faith in you. Any man in the heat of battle would have drawn the same conclusion I did if he saw you rescuing one of his enemies; that jailer helped torture me to near madness and Heaven help me I should like to return the favor. And as for my conduct towards you, well…I can't in good conscience say I'm sorry for the chance to hold you in my arms." He grinned and Marian quickly turned her head to avoid being taken in by his charms.

"This is no time for games, Robin. Is everyone all right? Is Will all right?" She did not miss the subtle clench of his jaw when she mentioned his cousin's name.

"Aye, everyone is safe. There were few injuries, none of them fatal. However, the smell of war is in the air. I cannot stop what is coming now."

"But they are your men," she countered swiftly. "Order them not to fight." Robin swung away from her and strode to the window.

"It doesn't work like that. The only reason they follow me is because they think I will lead them against Giles. That is what I promised. If I try to turn back now, my men will do battle without me and many lives will be lost on both sides."

"Very well then, but why are you telling me?" she asked after a moment, dropping her eyes to the floor. He leaned a shoulder against the window frame, surveying her for a long moment with a strange half-smile on his face.

"Why am I telling you?" he repeated softly, sounding amused. "Well, as proved by our little scuffle on the stairs, you can't resist jumping into the mouth of danger any better than I can. What is coming will not be some simple rescue. You won't be able to feign innocence while aiding me the next time. I would prefer it if you didn't join in at all." Finally, it was Marian's turn to smile and she stepped toward him, folding her arms defiantly over her chest.

"Your preferences have very little impact on my decisions, Robin Hood. I would have preferred you stay in seclusion until you had fully recovered, but we see how well that turned out."

"I am well enough now," he shrugged. Marian tossed her head and moved away from him to stand by the fireplace so that they stood on opposite sides of the room. He was cast in the night's darkness and she glowed from the light of the flames. She kept her back to him, but something in his silence made her uneasy. His gaze burned into her, daring her to turn and face him, but she knew that if she did she would somehow regret it.

"Tell me, Marian," he said quietly. "Who orchestrated my release from the dungeons? I do not doubt your ability to free me from the castle, but I do think it a bit of a stretch that you could have known about Gertrude living as far in seclusion as she is without some sort of intervention."

_He knows_, thought Marian. Her head came up and she looked around suspiciously. His face was expressionless; his eyes studied her closely.

"What does it matter _how_ I got you out, be grateful that I did," she said evasively, lifting a shoulder in a faint shrug. His eyes darkened and one corner of his mouth twitched, whether in amusement or irritation she could not guess.

"It would seem you have been keeping secrets from me," he said, sliding away from the wall. Suddenly he appeared larger than usual, taking up nearly as much space at Little John. Marian swallowed, stepping back.

"And what are you accusing me of keeping from you?" Her eyes widened as he continued to walk toward her. A small smirk curled the corner of his mouth.

"Playing ignorant is not your style. I have been thinking about it for some weeks now. Someone with prior knowledge of the dungeon system would have to have informed you of how they operate in order for you to break in and out unseen. Now, I know about that little ruse that Aunt Cecily used to find out where they were keeping me. It was brilliantly done, but she would never have shed so many tears for me when she did not cry so hard for her own son. However, you would still need to know how the dungeons operate and someone other than my aunt would have had to tell you that. Logically it would be someone who had experienced incarceration herself. I say it was a woman because a man would never dream of sending _you_ into such danger rather than go himself. Somehow you found out where my mother is even when I could not. Between you and Aunt Cecily I'm sure you managed to get word to her that I was in danger. Why did you not tell me?" She stood up abruptly, her long fiery braid swinging over her shoulder as she whirled to face him fully. He watched her silently, waiting. His cool reserve incensed her. Had she not done enough for him? Had she not risked her life for him on countless occasions? What right did he have to criticize anything she had done for him?

"When would I have had the opportunity to tell you? For over four months there was no sign of you!"

"At the festival you never said a word!" he returned, stepping toward her. Marian sent him a scathing look and turned her back with a wave of her hand.

"At the festival you humiliated me in front of all of Nottinghamshire! Did you expect me to do you any great favors after you kissed me like a drunken sailor and then mocked me to the crowd?" He fell silent. "I am not your messenger, Robin Hood. I am Marian Fitzgerald in my own right, and I am under no obligation to reveal everything I know to you. Yes, I know where your mother is, but she has asked me not to tell you of her whereabouts for fear that you will attempt to see her." Robin's head came up sharply and Marian pursed her lips together, regretting her phrasing.

"She has no desire to see me?"

"No, I misspoke," she said quietly and with forced patience. "She fears for you. You have made an enemy of the man who has confined her to a living hell for the past decade. Remember, the only view she has of you is the little boy she last saw. It's not her fault she misunderstands the man you are now." Robin swung away from her, bracing himself against the wall with both hands.

"Where is she?" he asked in a low voice.

"No, Robin. I cannot break my promise."

"Marian!" he cried in a hoarse voice. She felt the sound of it cut her to her very soul. He swung toward her and she saw the raw emotion on his face. This was not Robin Hood standing before her, but what remained of Robert of Huntington. Only now did she realize how complete the transformation was that had turned him into the legendary outlaw. His brow creased with pain and frustration as he squeezed his eyes closed against the tumult inside him. "She is my mother." Marian swallowed, holding onto her resolve.

"You still have your aunt and cousin. Is that not family enough?" Robin swore loudly and struck a book off a nearby stand. Marian held her breath.

"Yes it's family, but she is my _mother_!"

"Quiet, they'll hear you!" she hissed, glancing toward the door anxiously. "Robin, you are not yourself. Believe me when I say that she is safe where she is and wishes to remain so. Do not go after her." His head dropped forward onto his chest and he growled deep in his throat. Marian lowered her eyes and idly twisted the ruby ring on her finger.

He took a deep breath and raised his head, his eyes glowing like hot coals.

"If she has asked that I not come to her, then I will abide by her wishes, but will you talk to her in my stead? Tell her how grateful I am for all she has done for me and for freeing me from the dungeons."

"I did help," Marian added waspishly. Robin smiled.

"Aye, and I appreciate it with all my heart." She looked up suspiciously, not trusting that tender note in his voice. His eyes were twinkling again, despite the sadness in his gaze. "I owe _you_ more than I think even I know. You are unlike any maiden I have ever met. You do not like pretty words and I will not give them to you now, though I have spent many long hours listing them to myself; however I will say this: I am honored beyond measure to have you as my ally, and I trust you with more than I have ever trusted anyone before." Boldly, he stepped forward and gently lifted her chin so she was forced to meet his eyes. She squirmed and tried to step back, which only caused him to smile wider. At last she sighed.

"Perhaps we misjudged each other," she said quietly. "We had good reasons to despise each other as children, but time has changed us for better or worse. There was a time when I hated the very thought of you, but I now know what it is that draws people to you and earns you their loyalty. And I must admit that you are the first person who has ever accepted me as who I am. If things were different and we met under different circumstances…" she trailed off, her cheeks flaming from shyness and embarrassment. Robin smiled and stepped back.

"Aye Marian, if things were different…" They stood there for a moment in awkward silence. She continued to twist the great ruby ring on her finger, feeling vulnerable in a way she had never before experienced. Robin looked away, the uncertainty between them palpable. He wrestled with himself for a moment, wondering if he dared tell her what he had truly come to say. As if she knew exactly what he felt, she glanced at him again and as their eyes locked, Robin felt something deep inside him break.

"Marian, let there be no more secrets between us. Tell me truly why you were so upset when you thought my affection was for Avian." Caught off guard, she felt heat rise to her face. She mumbled something under her breath that not even with his keen hearing could Robin make out what it was.

"What did you say?" His voice carried a current of amusement.

"Why?" she said in a voice that was still soft but loud enough for him to hear. "Why after everything I have done must you constantly ridicule me? Why must you display my faults for all the world to see when I am already ashamed enough of them as it is? I was jealous, yes, but only because I risked my life to help you and you did nothing for me in return. For three months I endured Giles' attentions, waiting for the day you would return to distract him and make good on your promise to protect me from his suspicions. If I had to endure one more snide comment from Gisborn about my questionable loyalties or my infatuation for an outlaw who would as soon as rob me as look at me I was going to go mad. And after the hell I endured waiting for your return, _Avian_, pretty, simple little Avian, was the one who received the first word that you were back. Avian, who did nothing all winter but shamelessly flirt with every handsome face that crossed her path while pining over your disappearance as if she'd lost her favorite lapdog, was the one that your men went to such great lengths to send messages to. What did I receive as your spy? Nothing. I thought you were a man who admired courage and determination and skill, but it was Avian you asked after at our every meeting. And when at last you made your daring return at the festival I was just as happy as everyone else to see you alive and well. I cheered for you to win and protected you from the Sheriff, and as my reward you humiliated me in front of everyone for mere sport and a few cheap laughs. And then I had to watch you beaten like a dog in the streets and dragged to the dungeons. Every day the Sheriff 'entertained' us with details of your torture and what horrors he had in store for you next. All this I endured until I could bear it no more and I went and found the only person I knew who could help me rescue you. I went to the dungeons and saw what they had done to you. I heard you…and I saved you. Then tonight during that horrible battle I helped you free those men, and you had the gall to question my loyalty! And now, here before me, you ridicule me again! Robin, I am not the ice maiden that so many think I am. I have feelings and every bit as much pride as you have, yet you think nothing of picking fun at me for your amusement when I have done everything in my power to help your cause. Why? Why can you not treat me if not with the respect of one of your band, then at least the respect of a lady? Have I not earned it?"

Robin stared at her silently for a long moment, studying her flushed face and trembling lip. .

"Marian," he said at last. "Your 'faults,' as you call them, are the reason that I have been your willing servant these long winter months. Aye, I know what Giles and Gisborn put you through, and I did all in my power to stop them without giving myself away. I cannot deny that I used Lady Avian as a shield to hide what I truly felt, but that shield fooled both you and the Sheriff. I snubbed you in public and showered attention on her to convince them that you were not important to me. Avian is a rather simple child, and I knew they would not suspect her of conspiracy. I wanted to speak to you, truly I did. Those days that I spent disguised as Angelina while you spoke with my aunt were torturous. I wanted nothing more than to battle wits with you next to the fireplace all winter long, but it was impossible. It was dangerous enough that you singled out Aunt Cecily. If you were seen with a male servant that no one knew by name it would throw you back under suspicion. There is no point denying that you are by far the most beautiful woman I have ever seen and what happened at the festival was by no means meant to hurt you. Three months of being near you without being able to talk to you or reveal myself to you was more than I could bear. I saw the way Giles treated you and I couldn't let him get away with thinking that he had any claim on you. As for my incarceration, I apologize for any distress that may have caused you, but I thank you will all my heart for your efforts to free me. If not for you I wouldn't be here right now. And yes, I know how proud you can be, Maid Marian; I have yet to encounter a woman with more dignity and honor. I ridicule you because it is all I know how to do. I cannot give you flowers and poetry as you deserve, and I know that it is better if there is nothing between us. But there is."

"You are an outlaw, Robin Hood and I am a lady of high breeding and wealth. There is nothing between us."

"Do you think I risk life and limb to come to your chamber under the roof of my mortal enemy to declare my love _lightly_? Do you think I do this for sport? There is a war coming and I cannot promise that I will survive it, but before I die—if that indeed does come to pass—can I not hear the truth from you just once?" She stayed in her corner, her head bowed so that her hair curtained her face. Robin waited, watching her every miniscule movement for some indication of her thoughts. He swung away to stand by the window. Marian said nothing. Robin shook his head and turned back toward her, his face unreadable.

"You are the most incredibly maddening lass I've ever met. Never have I done so much for a woman and received so little appreciation in return." He stepped toward her again and dipped his head to drop a faint kiss on her cheek. "Farewell, my love." She jumped back, her eyes wide.

"Don't call me that! It's only one of your jests and I don't care for it. Now go before someone sees you."

Robin chuckled, looking down at her with another faint shake of his head.

"Of all things to be afraid of…" Smirking, he stepped back and bowed deeply. She narrowed her eyes.

"I am not afraid of you," she said in a low voice, clenched her hands into fists. He smiled.

"I know that, Maid Marian," he said with a trace of sadness. "You're afraid of yourself."

With that, he went to the door and disappeared as suddenly as he had appeared. She closed her eyes, feeling like an incredible fool.


	11. Chapter 11

The Greenwood was alive with merry laughter that echoed throughout the forest. Great fires blazed and the men ate and drank as though there was no other purpose in life. Competitions of strength, archery, and quarterstaffs took place to the howls and jests of those that watched. All this Robin watched with a hard eye, not partaking in any of it. His thoughts were too dark for revelries. Torn between thoughts of Marian and the Sheriff he could hardly focus on anything at all.

"Are you all right, Rob? You're awfully quiet," said Little John, coming over to stand by him. Robin did not look at him.

"Our men must strike soon, John," he said in a hollow voice. "All this that we have worked for might finally pay off." Little John blinked in surprise.

"Aye, and it just might be gone forever if we fail," he pointed out. Robin ignored that. He did not need negative thoughts clouding his already skeptical ones. Little John sighed and seated himself next to Robin on a fallen log.

"I know how much it means to you to take down the Sheriff. I know that is what we were called into your services to do. But can't we just stay the way we are? Is revenge so important that you would risk your happiness?"

"I cannot be truly happy until the Sheriff is dethroned," said Robin quietly. "So long as I am an outlaw Maid Marian and I will forever be parted by law and decency." He sensed Little John's surprise as he swiveled his large head to look at him.

"Is she that important to you, Rob, that you'll risk all this for her?"

"Aye." Robin knew he should be ashamed to think about himself when he was calling his loyal followers into a battle against the Sheriff in order for him to be able to marry the woman he loved, but there were other reasons for fighting as well. Giles had to be stopped. His tyranny had to come to an end soon before he attained more power.

"Call the men together; we need a plan of action. I trust Alan a Dale is not far from Alice," he paused. A strange rush of jealousy swept through him as he thought of the young man whose marriage he had arranged not so long ago. Little John knew what he was thinking; he chuckled.

"You will have your day."

Robin nodded and replied, "Call Alan, Will, and Much."

While Little John went to do his bidding, Robin picked up a twig off the ground and began drawing in the dirt, forming a battle plan. Of course it would take every single one of his Merry Men to fully execute, but there were four important roles that he needed his four closest supporters to follow. A gentle breeze blew through the trees, brushing his hair back off his forehead as though in reassurance that what he was doing was right.

"What's up, Rob?" asked Will, striding over to him with his long, scarlet cloak flapping. Beneath the cloak he wore the Lincoln green uniform that all the Merry Men wore, but he could not be convinced to part with the cloak that had earned him his name and place among the men. Little John, Much, and Alan were right behind him. Robin stood up and turned to them, brushing his hands together decisively. He knew exactly what they had to do.

Something felt amiss in the large dining hall that night. Marian, who rarely bothered to notice anything about the guests in attendance, had the feeling someone was watching her. A quick sweep with her green eyes convinced her that Robin Hood was not there, because now that she knew to look for him she could easily discern him in his various disguises, no matter how elaborate they were. If not Robin, then one of his men must be there in his place.

"Lady Marian," said Sir Geoffrey, leaning around the empty chair between them. "Have you seen my daughter? It seems she has disappeared." Marian's heart skipped a beat. Added to her suspicions that Robin Hood was at large, the disappearance of Avian could not be a coincidence. She forced a smile to her lips.

"No Sir Geoffrey, I have not seen Avian today." He nodded grimly and turned to his other side to ask after his daughter. Marian took a sip from her goblet, gripping in harder than was necessary. Her thoughts drifted to Robin and the way he had spoken to her last, professing his love and vowing to end his long vendetta against Giles of Northwood for good. She would put nothing past him, and now that the Sheriff's guard was down was the perfect time to strike.

"God protect you, Robin," she whispered into her cup.

Giles did not attend every feast. There were times when pressing matters of law-keeping in Nottingham kept him away. Tonight happened to be just such an occasion and his tall, high-backed chair remained empty up at the high table. Marian caught herself glancing at it from time to time, wondering where its occupant was. She did not know where her heart lay in this. It was true that Giles was corrupt and evil, yet Robin's hatred of him was greater than his injustice towards the people of Nottingham. Did Giles deserve the justice Robin would dispense to him?

A minstrel, dressed in a large, brown traveling cloak so patched and mended it resembled a quilt, dragged a chair into the center of the hall. He wore his worn hood pulled low over his face as though ashamed to show himself before the radiantly jeweled nobility before him. Marian sat up straighter, squinting hard. Her heightened sense of awareness reached its most potent point yet. The moment his long fingers touched the small harp in his hands, she knew him—Alan-a-Dale.

"I come to sing a song of bravery and courage," said Alan, thickening his accent, "of a father and son destined to meet on the field of battle. It's the story of the Great King Arthur and his traitorous son, Mordred, who robbed him of everything and plunged a kingdom into a dark age…"

As Marian listened, her heart grew heavy with the weight of the parallel Alan was drawing. In truth the story was very much the same. A father and son who hated each other were destined from the beginning to become mortal enemies. One was good and true and full of the virtues that any decent man ought to have, while the other was his opposite, deceitful and ambitious.

"Lady Marian, is something wrong?" asked Sir Geoffrey, glancing at her over the rim of his raised goblet. Her mouth had hardened into a tight line as she forced herself not to think of what Robin might be up to.

"Forgive me Sir Geoffrey, but I think I should go in search of Lady Avian. It is not like her to miss a minstrel's tale. Excuse me," she said, not waiting for a response. The long lavender silk gown she wore swished around her as she stood. She walked along the row of diners; they all had their full attention on Alan-a-Dale. Marian caught the minstrel's eye briefly when she reached the archway that led into the corridor. He nodded and she returned it with a brisk nod of her own. In the small exchange she understood that the story had been as much for her sake as it had been for the men and women seated in the hall.

"Excuse me," said Marian, stopping a passing servant. "Where is the Sheriff at present?"

"In his study, Milady," replied the young man, bowing low. She nodded and rushed past him. She clasped her hands together and twisted the great ruby ring she wore on her right hand.

"God help you, Robin."

Giles preferred to work in absolute silence while he was in his study. He kept the floor-length windows bolted at all times and the burgundy velvet curtains pulled tightly across them so that not even the wind could disturb him as he worked. A single candle served as his only light. He found that limiting what he saw allowed him to focus on one thing at a time, rather than letting his mind wander to the pile of other things he needed to tend to. He flicked his quill impatiently into his ink well as the lines he wrote grew dry.

The escape of Robin Hood had greatly upset him, so much so that he had little time or attention to spare for anything else. Robin must be removed before he could cause any further damage, or before he revealed to the people of Nottingham what part he—Giles—had played in the death of Lord Roger of Huntington. Everything hinged on silencing Robin Hood. But his stepson was clever, too clever in fact. There was no way to touch him while he remained in his element. Robin had almost supernatural abilities of disappearance and even in a crowded Nottingham square surrounded by guards, Giles knew the young man would find a way to make an escape. And now there was this, the scrolled up letter that had just arrived on his desk as if placed there by magic.

Giles of Northwood,

The time has come when our games must end. When I was a child you saw fit to get rid of me by sending me away to live with my aunt and uncle, and when I grew old enough to become a threat to you, you tried to have me hanged for a crime I did not commit. Your treachery has robbed me of all that is rightfully mine and I come to reclaim it. I will serve you the justice that you escaped years ago after the murder of my family, and I will exact a drop of blood for every sin you have committed against me. Ready yourself, Giles of Northwood, your final hour has come.

Robin was known as a man of his word and Giles knew that everything said in the letter was true. Time and time again he had tried to rid himself of the loathsome stepson he had acquired in his pursuit of the lovely Charity. Immediately after the death of Lord Roger it had been unwise to have the boy killed for fear of drawing suspicion to himself, and while he was reared far away in another court, Giles all but forgot about him. It was when he returned on the eve of his seventeenth year, a proper young man fully capable to reclaim his title and duties over the people of Huntington that Giles had realized his mistake in allowing him to live. The deaths of Lord Gamwell and his sons at Loxley had been mere casualties in a greater purpose. Now Robin returned again, a fully grown man and a deadly enemy.

"Page, bring me ale!" Giles roared, his blood boiling in his veins as he tore the note to shreds and flung them into the fireplace. The door opened and a servant appeared, holding a small tray with a large tankard of ale and a small mug. His head was bowed low as though afraid to meet Giles' eye.

"Leave it there," Giles barked, waving his hand at an empty space on his desk.

"Do you think it wise to dull your senses with drink?" asked Robin's voice like a breath from the devil. Giles looked up and saw him, his face dancing before him over the glow of the solitary candle as if he were the devil himself.

"Guards!" Giles bellowed, jumping to his feet. He backed away from the desk, glaring at Robin, who smiled back his most charming smile.

"Don't bother. My men are more than enough work to keep your guards busy. As I said in my letter, this is to be a duel between us and a fair fight to the end."

"I'll see you hanged yet, Robin Hood," Giles snarled, reaching for the dagger he kept belted at his side. Robin merely watched him, unmoved by the sudden appearance of a blade. However, the oath did cause him to chuckle.

"You have sent scores of men to accomplish that task and none of them were successful. What makes you think your incompetent arse can do any better?"

"You are a fiend, Robin, a damned, cursed devil!" Robin acknowledged this with a grim nod.

"Aye, perhaps it is a family trait." The insult was juvenile, but it hit its mark none the less. Giles' face contorted with rage and he lunged at Robin with the dagger slashing at his blatantly unguarded chest.

Robin expected the attack, had known it would come from the moment the blade appeared into his stepfather's hands. He sprang back out of the blade's reach and unsheathed the sword he had concealed at his side. Giles retreated, his eyes glowing murderously. He shuffled back to his desk where his sheath and sword hung on the back of his chair. He brandished the sword with a loud hiss of metal sliding free of leather.

"I'll have your head, Robin, I swear I will," he snarled, lunging and slashing again. But Robin, surrounded in Sherwood Forest by the meanest cutthroats in England, knew far more about swordplay than Giles could ever hope to. That mixed with his natural athletic talent threw the odds unfavorably against Giles, something the sheriff saw almost immediately as Robin easily parried his blows. Desperate, he lunged for his desk, seized the candle and flung it at Robin with all his might. The candlestick and flame missed Robin entirely, but the melted wax splashed onto Robin's cheek, searing his skin. They were plunged into darkness as the candle went out and their only light came from the partially open door.

Yelling in pain, Robin lowered his guard and Giles swung the heavy sword at him, cutting him across his left thigh. Robin retreated again, trying to wipe away the hot wax from his face and steel his nerves against the pain in his now-injured leg. Giles seized his advantage and bore down on him ruthlessly. The blows Robin parried, but a sharp jab with the butt of Giles' hilt caught him a glancing blow on the crown of his head, causing every nerve in his body to numb momentarily. The sword dropped from his hand. Giles kicked it away with triumph.

Robin stepped back, looking for a way around Giles to reach his fallen sword. Blood oozed from the wound in his leg, soaking his pants and dripping puddles onto the floor. He slipped.

"You will die at my hands, just like your father did."

"In case you haven't noticed, I am not my father."

"Pity, he went down so much easier. Perhaps if I had your great archery skill I might have made his death quick and painless. He died writhing on the ground, stuck like a pig." Fury clouded Robin's vision so that the world around him flashed scarlet. Giles edged toward him, relishing his advantage. His eyes were lit with a mad fire.

Robin's dark eyes flickered to the doorway when more light filled the room and a cloud of lavender silk revealed Marian. Her face tightened with fear as she surveyed the situation before her. Giles glanced over his shoulder and smiled reassuringly at her, mistaking the cause of her fear for his safety rather than Robin's.

"He is unarmed. There is no need to fear." He turned back to his prize without another look in her direction. Marian stepped into the room, looking between them warily. Robin watched her like a hawk, unsure what she would do. She stalked stealthily toward Giles.

"Milord, what do you plan to do with him?" she asked in her most innocent voice. Giles ignored her, his whole focus on Robin, who locked eyes with Marian for an instant, and then glanced down at his fallen sword. She understood and knelt quietly to pick it up.

"Finally, the last of the House of Huntington will die," Giles breathed.

"No!" shouted Marian, jumping between them with the heavy sword held ready in her strong, slender hands. The look of absolute shock and amazement on Giles face as he stared dumbfounded at the beautiful woman wielding a sword like a man would have been funny if the situation hadn't been so dire. However, shock soon turned to fury as the pieces quickly fell into place.

"So it was you that slipped him information these long months, was it? Guy warned me not to trust you, but I fell for your fair face and your serpent tongue like a lovesick fool." He looked between them, madness twisting his features past rage into frenzy. "You would rather be an outlaw's strumpet than the decent wife of a noble lord? Is that it, you traitorous wench?" Marian's hands tightened on the sword hilt, and with a snarl she flew at Giles, swinging for his head. She and Giles clashed swords and Marian's blade burned with hatred and fury. But despite her remarkable swordsmanship she was not stronger than him. She was put at further disadvantage by the cumbersome skirt she wore. Robin saw this at the exact same moment Giles did.

With a laugh, he stepped on the hem of her gown and shoved her back. She fell hard and ungracefully with a muffled cry of frustration and struggled to get up, but he pinned her down and pointed the tip of his sword at her pale throat. Her eyes grew wide as he drew back to deliver a mortal blow. She swung her head away but Robin tackled him to the floor with a yell. He over-judged his jump however, and rolled into the bookshelf on the opposite side of the room. Giles scrambled to his feet and rushed for the door, bellowing for his guards.

"Robin!" cried Marian, sliding his sword across the floor to him. He acknowledged her with a nod and ran after his enemy. Out in the corridor he caught up with Giles and the fight began again. They did not waste their time and energy on silly threats and taunts because both needed every ounce of strength they had left. Again and again, Giles went for Robin's already injured leg, only to meet with Robin's impenetrable defense.

"Robin, the guard!" warned Marian, coming to the doorway and looking down the opposite end of the corridor where the sound of clanking armor could be heard growing steadily louder. They appeared around the corner, five of them glinting in the torchlight. They skidded to a stop, apparently stunned to see the Sheriff of Nottingham engaged in combat.

"After him you fools!" Giles bellowed. Robin turned and fled, ducking under a desperate swipe at his head from Giles. His stomach twisted with frustration at this unexpected interruption. Now that he was outside the little office he could hear screaming and yelling from further down below as the rest of his Merry Men held most of Giles guards at bay. Cries of surprise rang out behind him and Robin heard a strangled sound. Without looking he knew that Maid Marian had stepped in to give him still a little more time to make his escape.

"Arrest her!" snapped Giles swinging around to go after Robin. Robin turned and saw two men holding Marian between them, clamping their fists down on her slender wrists with bruising force. He skidded to a stop. Marian staggered to her knees, her long auburn hair falling wildly about her face as she glared at Giles like a tiger caught in a snare. The other three guards advanced on Robin, swords drawn and poised.

Robin sheathed his sword and in an instant had his bow nocked and ready in his hand. The guards hesitated, knowing full well how perilous their situation was.

"Release her," said Robin calmly, aiming an arrow at the men. Those nearest him quickly retreated so they were even with their commander. They exchanged a glance and looked to the Sheriff for orders.

"If you release her I'll gut you myself," spat Giles ferociously. Robin's dark eyes flashed and he raised his bow to firing position. The three guards continued to retreat, ignoring Giles' orders. Robin fixed them with his dark green stare and they turned and ran back the way they had come, with Giles bellowing after them. Robin turned his attention to the men holding Marian.

"There's no reason for you to die today."

"No!" Giles roared. Robin fired, and his arrow pierced the shoulder of the man on the left. He released Marian with a bellow of pain and surprise. Seizing her chance, Marian took the moment to shove the other guard off balance into the wall. She snatched the sword from the wounded man's sheath and held it ready to defend herself. With a cry she attacked, catching both men off guard. Only one had a weapon to defend himself and his surprise left him too slow to retrieve it, while the other was injured and too dumbfounded to react.

Robin removed another arrow and aimed it at Giles' heart. To his surprise, Giles smiled.

"I thought this was to be a duel of honor, _Robert_. You would strike me with your arrow and leave me no chance to defend myself?"

"It's the same courtesy you extended to my father," said Robin calmly.

"He deserved to die!" Giles growled, the smile turning into another ugly scowl.

"As do you," said Robin darkly, his hand shaking on the arrow he held. This was the moment his life had been leading toward since that day so many years ago when he had first learned the gruesome truth of his father's death. Giles of Northwood deserved death more than any man living, yet Robin did not have it in him to kill him. For all his oaths and promises to himself and his men, he could not bring himself to loose the arrow that would end all their misery. Giles saw his hesitation and recognized it for what it was. He laughed coldly. Behind them, Marian fought on, dancing like a flame against the two guards. The one with the sword had regaining his wits and she now faced a fully-trained warrior.

"Are you so goodhearted that you can not kill even me then, Robin Hood?" breathed Giles, his sallow face twisted with malice and triumph. "Is it too far beneath the noble son of Lord Roger of Huntington to kill the man responsible for all your suffering? To think, the people would rather follow a spineless whelp than their rightful lord and master."

"Be grateful for my mercy or your life would be pouring from your heart even now," said Robin, struggling against his own conscious as he spoke.

Giles lunged at him and Robin flung his bow and arrow aside, preparing to spring out of the way, but halfway across the gap between them, Giles' black eyes bulged out of his head and his mouth fell open in a gasp of pain and horror. Robin's eyes widened as he watched the sheriff fall facedown, an arrow lodged deep into his back. Robin looked up sharply, wondering who had stolen his moment; who had dared rob him of the revenge that had driven him for all the years of his life?

He found himself looking into eyes dark as his own. Will. Will Scarlett stood at the opposite end of the corridor holding a longbow tight in his fist. His dark eyes shone as he panted for breath. He must have run all the way up from the battle downstairs to reach them. Their eyes met and Will's face hardened into a face that did not belong to the cousin who had once been as good as a brother to Robin, whose face so often before was mistaken for his own. Before Robin could stop him, Will turned and fled back the way he had come, leaving Robin standing motionless beside the fallen body of his dead step-father.

"Don't just stand around, help me!" panted Marian, retreating from the guards' full attack now and trying to keep the other within her sights as well. Robin blinked, shaking himself back to the present. With dutiful reluctance he strode along the corridor, retrieved his bow from the floor and nocked another arrow. The guards froze where they stood.

"Let her go or face the same fate as your master," he said quietly, still shaken by what he had just seen. "Surrender." In unison, the men flung down their weapons. Marian slipped behind them and bashed their heads together with all of her might, dropping them unconscious to the floor. Robin's eyebrows rose.

"Well I can't very well have them running off to tell everyone that I took them on single-handed," she said primly. Suddenly, her eyes rolled back into her head and she staggered.

"Marian!" Robin went to her side at once and saw a trail of blood raking across her ribcage. Shakily he touched his fingers to the slash in her gown and they came away dripping with blood.

"It's just a scratch, I'll be fine. Go, before someone sees you," she whispered in a ragged voice.

"I can't leave you to bleed to death, let me help you," said Robin, staring down at her wound. She smiled, the rich curves of her lips parting to reveal her pearled row of teeth. He brushed the hair back off her face with a gentle hand. She reached up and caught his hand in her own.

"The battle is not over, but my part in it is. I will be fine. I have received worse in practice bouts, believe me. Go; your men need you."

"But your wound…" he said, staring at the long jagged tear in her bodice.

"—is more cloth than flesh I assure you." She laughed. "Go, I am not a helpless maiden, Robin Hood, and I need you not." To prove her point, she placed a hand over the bloody stain and pushed herself up from the floor by using his shoulder for leverage. She stood unwavering and the determined look in her eye told Robin that it would do no good to argue with her. Shaking his head at her undeniable stubbornness, he gave her a swift bow and ran to join his men. He cast her not a backward glance, which was fortunate as Marian doubted very much whether she could remain standing. The moment he passed out of sight, her knees gave way and she collapsed in a heap of lavender silk. She dragged herself to the wall and leaned her back against it for support, all the while keeping her hand pressed tightly against the wound that was seeping away her life in great pulsing waves. She swallowed back the rise of tears. Her eyes danced over the unconscious bodies of the two guards and slain sheriff, and she bit her lip against the rushing fear inside her. Despite her greatest efforts to remain alert, her eyelids fluttered close.

What Robin met when he reached the top of the grand staircase leading into the cavernous Entrance Hall was a seething sea of men wrestling and fighting with every sinew in them. The tide of Lincoln green crashed heavily upon the shore of brightly colored guards. Little John was easy enough to make out where he stood head and shoulders among the rest. A circle of unconscious soldiers lay before him of all those who dared get within reach of his sturdy club. Relieved, Robin exhaled the breath he had not realized he was holding. Judging from the number of fallen guards, Much had been successful in presenting the soldiers' quarters with enough ale to leave them properly inebriated and thoroughly useless in battle. Little John had successfully raised the gates to allow the Merry Men into the castle while Alan and Will must have succeeded in sneaking several squads of men into the castle in disguise.

"Guy, look," shouted one of the men, pointing to the top of the stairs where Robin stood, his longbow clutched in his hand. Guy of Gisborn swung around, his face dripping sweat and blood from a deep gash across the side of his face. His eyes took in the self-satisfied smirk on Robin's face and the proud stance that only Robin Hood could execute in the midst of so much chaos and destruction. Robin reached for the golden hunting horn at his belt and blasted one long, clear note that echoed proudly throughout the hall. At the sound, the Merry Men raised a loud cheer.

Guy of Gisborn ran up the stairs, his bloody sword raised to strike. Robin crouched, waiting for him. He slipped his bow back into its sheath on his back and slid the dagger from his belt. One of the ropes holding up the wrought iron chandelier was tied to the wall at his elbow.

"Stand and fight, Robin Hood," said Gisborn, his sides heaving from exertion. Robin shook his head.

"My quarrel is not with you today, Sir Guy." He slashed at the chord and as the chandelier began to fall, he seized the rope and let it catapult him into the air. More cheers followed his progress as he soared across the ceiling like the bird for which he had named himself. As he reached the end of the rope, he jumped to the far side of the wall and grabbed onto a large tapestry, sliding down to the floor where he landed without a scratch. His men lifted the ceiling with their cheers.

"Come men, we need not waste our time where we aren't wanted," said Robin, his eyes twinkling as they landed on Gisborn's furious face. He turned and led the way out of the castle. A sea of Lincoln green followed him and the Sheriff's men were more than happy to see them go.

* * *

**A/N: **Again, thanks for the reviews. They're always appreciated. There's not much more left to go.


	12. Chapter 12

His men were flushed with the victory over the Sheriff's guards and Robin did nothing to quench their enthusiasm, but for him it was all an act. His thoughts remained in the dark corridor where he had left his slain stepfather and the fallen Marian. Only her forceful insistence had sent him on to the battle below, but he knew that even if it cost her very last breath Marian would never have kept him from his men.

The celebrating went on long into the night; Robin took part in none of it. Early on he slipped away into the solitude of the trees. His thoughts drifted to Marian as he had last seen her, flushed from battle and stemming the flow of her own blood as though she were a seasoned warrior used to such wounds; but she was not. Despite the many ways she argued against it, Maid Marian was still a lady at heart. She was the woman of his heart and he could do nothing but sit in the forest and await news; he knew better than to attempt to sneak back to her side.

"Robin," said a quiet voice behind him. For the first time in a long while, Robin found himself caught off guard. He turned to see Will picking his way clumsily through the underbrush. On his face there appeared a hardened look of a man approaching the final obstacle on a long journey. At once Robin knew what that obstacle was. He stood, facing his cousin in the dim moonlight. Will stopped a few feet away, face averted and shoulders hunched.

"I had to do it," he said quietly. "I had to." Robin said nothing.

Tonight Will wore the same gaudy red costume he had first appeared to them in when Little John had christened him 'Will Scarlett', and he stood in starch contrast with Robin's elemental forest green.

"You don't understand how it's been for me. You don't know what it's like to see your father murdered before your eyes and to have your brother slain for protecting you and to know that the man who did all this to you is sleeping on silk sheets not ten miles away like a prince. He stole everything that ever mattered to me. I thought I would never be whole until I had my revenge." Robin listened silently. For a moment he became like a part of the forest, so still and quiet that not even the trees could compete with him. At long last, he sighed.

"And what of _my_ revenge, Will? What about the sorrows he put _me_ through? Did I not deserve to seek revenge as well? I have more right than you to hate him. Think of what he's done to me all my life." Though his anger shook in every syllable, Robin remained steady and calm. Will flinched.

"Aye Robin, and since you were a boy you knew what he was, and like it or not you knew to expect such cruelties from him. Imagine all that he has done to you happen at once and magnify that pain a hundred times and you'll know how I felt that night at Locksley. When your father died you didn't even know that Giles had a hand in it! You didn't realize the reason your mum stopped writing to you until months later, and even then you didn't suspect Giles of anything! You have reason to hate him, Robin, aye, I know that. But so have I, and don't dare tell me that I didn't deserve my revenge any more than you did!"

Robin was silent, stunned by his cousin's hatred. Will's voice shook and he turned away sharply with a swish of his long, scarlet cloak.

"Will," said Robin softly, "It's true that you deserved this night as much as I did, and I'll admit to you that I could not have done it if you had not arrived. However, I wish that you had not turned into a murderer. I swore in your brother's name that I would protect you and look at what has become of my oath."

"You did what you could for me, Robert; and Joseph has no cause to ask more of you than what you have done. When the others find out that the Sheriff is dead what do we tell them?" Robin shook his head.

"Nothing. It's expected that everyone will think it my fault and I will take the blame to clear your name. With Giles dead you are a free man again, and William of Locksley is free to reclaim his lands." Will turned, his eyes wide with horror. He took a step toward Robin, who smiled.

"But if you take the blame for it then you will be hunted forever. I can't do that."

"It is already done, Will. Even if every man in that castle saw you shoot the sheriff, his death would still fall on my head because you are my man. Whether you accept this or not it's the way things are." Will gaped at him, lost for words. Robin's smile broadened and he took his kinsman by both shoulders. "Forget this night and consider the future. Your mother will be restored to her rightful home and no longer suffer the life of a servant. You and Lady Avian can marry and raise a family in Locksley to replace the one that was lost there. You two will make a fine pair and I'm sure it would make Aunt Cecily very proud. Where is Lady Avian anyway?" he added cocking his head to one side. Will's face suddenly reddened considerably and he drew his shoulders up to his ears.

"A friar married us this afternoon in the glen. Her father won't be too happy I don't suppose, but once I regain my family's estate he may change his tune." Robin's smile became genuine now and he clapped Will on the shoulder again in congratulations.

"Then I won't keep you from her a moment more. Go, with my heartiest congratulations." A gentle shove pushed Will back toward camp, and he went, smiling over his shoulder. Robin watched him go with a feeling of happiness and envy settling over him. He was glad his cousin had found happiness and his soul was at last at peace; however he could not help but feel it unfair that after everything, he—Robin—could never return to being Robert of Huntington and marry the beautiful lady he loved. He sighed and looked up at the black, leafy canopy above him that rustled in a breeze as if to say, 'this life was your choice'. He grinned. He belonged here in Sherwood and Will did not; that was made clear by his horrible choice of dress. So long as he had his men around him Robin could be content. To have Marian as his lady and always at his side was a nighttime dream and destined never to parallel itself by day. She would never truly be his and that was the end of it. Robin sighed and melted into the forest once more; this time not even Will would have found him.

"Have you lost your mind? If Sir Guy discovers that you're here then it's straight to the dungeons with you," hissed Marian as Robin Hood came to stand beside her sickbed at Lucy's side. Despite her scolding he was a welcome sight. Her green eyes inspected every line of his face and found that he was unhurt and unchanged from the night of the battle five days ago. His roguish smile was securely in place as arrogantly as it had ever been as he stood beside her bed holding out a small bouquet of purple wildflowers. She took them reluctantly—flowery gifts never had impressed her. With a pointed look she handed the flowers to Lucy who scuttled off to find a vase for them and give Marian and Robin a few moments alone.

"It seems you lied to me. When you sent me from your side you said it was only a scratch, yet a week later you are still abed. Or perhaps this frailness is part of your charade as a gentlewoman," he said, chastising her rather than teasing. She brushed this aside.

"As I told you, I can take care of myself perfectly well on my own, and I did not need you looking after me like a nervous hen while your men were gallantly fighting for you down below."

"And in your thoughtfulness did you consider what would my men say if they knew I left a lovely lady lying wounded behind me while I rushed off to battle? I assure you they would find that very ungallant of me."

"Oh yes, your precious honor would be at stake, and I can see the value in the honor of an outlaw," she said dryly. "Robin, please go. I am very tired and very irritable, and this cursed wound stings like hellfire. Your quest is complete and my part in it is over. Two days hence I will ride home to my estate where you can never trouble me more." Though she said it in a merry voice, Robin sensed her dismay as greatly as he felt the weight descend upon his heart at the news of her departure.

"So soon then? Are you never to return?" he asked, continuing the banter as a disguise for the question he really wished answered. She shielded the green emeralds of her eyes with her long dark lashes as coyly as any delicate maiden could.

"What reasons have I to return, Robin Hood?" He laughed and leaned his shoulder against the tall post of her four-poster bed.

"I fear you will soon lack for entertainment without the tales of my Merry Men to accompany you on cold winter nights. Think of the duels fought on moonlit eves, the festival dances on May Day, and the political intrigue that you have been a part of here in Nottinghamshire." She heaved a great, false sigh.

"Yes Robin, and I'm glad to see it go. I am, after all, a gentle woman and my place is—and has always been—at home looking after my estate and concentrating on finding a suitable man to manage it for me. When King Richard returns I will be expected to present to him my choice of husband." Robin eyes flew to her face, but it was smooth as glass, revealing nothing.

"And have you made a decision as to who the lucky devil will be?" he pressed. She gave an airy toss of her head, watching him out of the corner of her eye.

"No, but I can assure you that when I do you will be the first to know. He will be short, I warrant you, with no head for adventure or stomach for violence. I dare say he will have to prefer sitting at home reading to riding about the countryside like a buffoon. And I'll not have a handsome man at my side."

"And why is that?" asked Robin, enjoying her teasing for what it was worth. He could not help but chuckle at the extreme wrongness in Marian's 'ideal' husband.

"I have tasted jealousy before and if I should be wed to a handsome man I should feel it every day. For instance, if I were to marry you I would have to compete with every milkmaid, farmers' daughter, and nobleman's sister for your affection and that is simply too much work for me." Robin laughed heartily, tossing back his head.

"Aye, but there are few milkmaids, farmers' daughters, or nobleman's sisters to rival you, and I assure you than any man whose heart burns for you will never love another after." She pursed her lips and folded her hands demurely in her lap.

"That may be the case, but unfortunately I go home in two days and as of this moment I have no worthy candidates for my affection. However, if you happen to see a short, squat, boring man who cares not for adventure and prefers reading to sword-fighting, do send him my way. I'm sure he and I will be very content." She sent him a sly look from beneath her thick lashes. Robin shook his head with a laugh, inwardly wondering how so perfect a woman came to exist on the earth.

"And if I do find such a man that would please you then where I am I to send him to seek your loving embrace?" Marian's eyebrow arched and she settled back against her pillows thoughtfully.

"If such a man exists that would suit me—for I am a very hard woman to please—then he will know where to find me without having to be told. Now, good day Robin Hood, I honestly do need my rest." And he was dismissed, as simply as if he were her servant. Marian smiled her cat smile, enjoying the feeling of having confused and controlled the conversation so completely. Robin shook his head and started toward the door. He reached for his hood, pulling it low to cast his face in shadows and leave her with a last glimpse at the legend of Sherwood, a man both godlike and painfully human.

"Know this: my men and I will always remember you Maid Marian for what you have done for us. I pray that our paths cross again one day." He bowed low then opened the door, disappeared into the corridor; and was gone. Marian sighed and smiled to herself. Though he was a rogue and a fiend, he would forever be Robin Hood.

"May God keep you safe, Robin," she murmured.

There was a knock on the door in the main room and a few moments later Lucy reappeared leading Lady Cecily, who looked magnificent in a long midnight gown of velvet trimmed with lace and silver. It was hard to imagine such a lady as a servant. Lady Cecily bowed her head when she saw Marian awake.

"Lady Marian, my nephew instructed me to give you this as his token of farewell," said Lady Cecily, now restored from lowly maid to noblewoman with the surprising 'return' of the long-lost William of Locksley who demanded that his mother be treated as befit her station. Marian smiled at her and swung her legs out of bed, rising stiffly.

"What is it?" she asked, picking up a gold comb from her bedside table and dragging it through her long tresses. Lady Cecily held out a green-fletched arrow with a thin scroll tied around the shaft. Intrigued, Marian set down the brush and unwound the scroll to read the message. After her eyes scanned the parchment she whirled to look at her bedside table, crumpled the paper, and flung it into the corner of her room with a snarl.

"_Hang you, Robin Hood_!"

"What does it say?" asked Lady Cecily mildly, bending to pick up the parchment to read it for herself.

Dearest Maid Marian,

I am glad to see that you are recovered and I hope that you will not mind that I took the liberty of collecting your small ruby and gold ring as payment for providing your carriage safe passage through Sherwood Forest two days hence. With outlaws hiding behind every tree, one can never be too careful. And I hope you will not mind the disappearance of the small gold mirror on your bedside table…old habits you know.

R. H.

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed my version of Robin's story.


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